


Blackbird Fly

by Birdie237



Category: Teen Wolf (TV)
Genre: F/M, Mutual Pining, Slow Burn, Supernatural Beings, Teen Wolf, stiles x oc - Freeform, they're stupid sir
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2021-02-15
Updated: 2021-02-17
Packaged: 2021-03-17 09:41:39
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence
Chapters: 10
Words: 50,907
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/29469615
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Birdie237/pseuds/Birdie237
Summary: Vivian Byrne didn’t have a lot in life. After the accident, her brother moved them both to Beacon Hills, to be closer to Griffin and Vivian’s godfather, Noah Stilinski. Despite what had happened, Vivian is happy. She is reunited with her best friend Stiles, she is going to a school where no one knows her- or her family-, and she even discovers werewolves are real. Oh, yeah, Vivian’s eight-year-old self is definitely fangirling about that. But knowing the truth about the weirder side of the world isn’t all it’s cracked up to be. And now Vivian is experiencing things like werewolves, hunters, and almost dying every time she leaves the house. But, hey, that’s just Beacon Hills.
Relationships: stiles x oc





	1. Wolf Moon

_I am going to tell you a story._

_Now, this... this is not your normal fairy tale. This is a story of a bunch of teenagers who went looking for something they shouldn’t have, and what happened next was like nothing they ever could have imagined. It brought sadness and pain and a million other bad things, but it brought good things, too. It brought friendship, and that friendship turned into family. It brought happiness to places happiness never thought it would be, and love to places it should have been the whole time. It changed their lives forever._

_And this is how it happened._

* * *

“This is not a good idea,” I say, standing in the yard of my friend Scott McCall’s house.

“Climbing the trellis is by far the best way to go,” Stiles defends, trying to find a good foothold.

“Do you even know what a trellis is?” I ask.

“Of course I do- you want to lend a hand?”

I smirk. “Sorry, I left the grappling hook at home.”

“And replaced it with a baseball bat, apparently.”

“Hey, this bat is for any kind of predators in the woods. We don’t know what’s out there. We might need this to defend ourselves.”

Stiles gets a grip on the column and starts to climb. “And a fucking baseball bat is gonna do that?”

“Vivian?” Scott asks as he appears on the porch. “What are you doing here?” I look up at Stiles, who hasn’t noticed Scott has come outside. I smirk. Oh, this is going to be hilarious.

Just then, Stiles falls halfway off the roof, which he had somehow managed to reach. Scott and Stiles scream. Scott waves a baseball bat before realizing it was his best friend attempting to break into his house. “Stiles what the hell are you doing?” Scott demands as I come closer. I am not at all trying to hide my loud laughter as I climb the steps of the front porch.

“You weren’t answering your phone,” Stiles says, hanging upside down. “Why do you have a bat?”

“I thought you were a predator!” Scott exclaims defensively.

“It’s Stiles,” I laugh.

Stiles scoffs at me. “Okay, now you are just mean.” He looks back to Scott, and continues talking as if hanging upside down is a perfectly normal way to have a conversation. “Look, I know it’s late, but you gotta hear this. I saw my dad leave about twenty minutes ago with Viv’s brother. Dispatch called. They’re bringing in every officer from the Beacon department and even state police.”

“For what?” Scott asks.

“Two joggers found a body in the woods.” With that, he flips out of the tree he was tangled in, landing on his feet.

Scott’s eyes widen comically. “A dead body?”

“No, a body of water. Yes, dumb-ass, a dead body.” He climbs over the railing to join us on the porch.

“You mean, like, murdered?”

“Nobody knows yet,” he says. “Just that it was a girl, probably in her twenties.”

“Hold on, if they found the body, then what are they looking for?” Scott points out.

Stiles turns to me excitedly. “You want to say, or should I?”

I sigh, shifting my bat from one hand to the other. “They only found half of the body.” I turn to Stiles. “And you should not be this excited about this shit.”

Stiles ignores me. “We’re going.”

* * *

Scott, Stiles, and I pull up to the Beacon Hills Preserve. “We’re seriously doing this?” Scott asks as we all get out of the car.

“You’re the one always bitching that nothing ever happens in this town,” Stiles replies, patting his friend on the shoulder. Scott looks to me for support, but I only shrug, hefting my bat over my shoulder. This might not be the best idea for the end of winter break, but it is pretty interesting.

“I was trying to get a good night’s sleep before practice tomorrow,” Scott says, following us into the woods.

“Right, ‘cause sitting on the bench is such a grueling effort,” Stiles says sarcastically.

“No, because I’m playing this year. In fact, I’m making first line.”

“Hey, that’s the spirit,” Stiles says. “Everyone should have a dream, even a pathetically unrealistic one.”

“Hey, so quick question,” I chime, “which half of the body are we looking for?”

Stiles pauses. “Huh. I didn’t even think about that.”

“Okay. Follow-up question: what if whoever killed the body is still out here?”

“Also something I didn’t think about.”

“Right.” I tighten my grip on my bat. “Just making sure.”

We hit a hill, so we had to climb. “It’s comforting you’ve planned this out with your usual attention to detail,” Scott says.

“I know,” Stiles says, not seeing an issue. I roll my eyes.

“Maybe the severe asthmatic should be the one holding the flashlight, huh?” Scott leans up against a tree and takes out his inhaler. “Vivian, how come you didn’t think about this?”

“My planning skills are going towards this semester,” I defend. “I left a pile of school supplies just waiting to be organized on the kitchen table.”

“That’s because you’re weird,” Stiles responds. Before I can retort back, Stiles falls to the ground, Scott following suit. Seeing what made them do that, I kneel next to them. In front of us is a group of men with flashlights. I guess that they were police officers also looking for the body. Stiles smiles. “Come on!”

“Stiles!” Scott protests, but he is long gone. I help him up and we chase after our friend.

“Wait up!” I whisper-yell.

“Stiles!” Scott calls.

I catch up with Stiles and both of us turn, realizing Scott isn’t next to us anymore.

Suddenly, a dog barks, and Stiles falls to the ground in surprise. “Oh, shit!” I exclaim and back up.

“Hold it right there!” A man yells. I realize it was a police officer and his dog.

“Hang on, hang on,” a new voice comes, and none other than Stiles’s father and my godfather walks up. “This little delinquent belongs to me. The girl is fine, too.”

“Hi, Uncle Noah,” I smile nervously, reaching a hand down to help Stiles up.

“Dad, how are you doing?” Stiles asked, trying to adjust his eyes to the light.

“I think we’re about the same,” another voice says, walking up to us. I close my eyes, wincing. Oh, shit.

“Hi, Griffin,” I say. I open my eyes to see my older brother giving me a stern look.

“So, do you, uh, listen in to all of my phone calls?” Noah asks.

“No,” Stiles replies. “Not the boring ones.” I stifle a snort.

Noah looks around. “Now, where’s your usual partner in crime?”

“Scott’s at home,” I jump in before Stiles. “Said he wanted to get a good night’s sleep for tomorrow.”

“It’s just us,” Stiles chimes. “In the woods. Alone.” I shoot him a look, mentally telling him to shut up. That is not helping.

Noah looks unbelieving. He shines his light into the trees. “Scott, you out there?” Oh, for the love of God, Scott, don’t come out. “Scott?” Finally, he gives up and turns back to Stiles and I. Finally, he sighs, lowering his light. “Well, young man, I’m gonna walk you and Vivian back to your car.”

“Viv, we will talk about this later,” Griffin tells me. I nod. He looks at the object in my hand. “Nice bat.”

I look down, embarrassed. “Thank you, Griffin.”

Noah grabs Stiles’s jacket, dragging him off, and I follow. “Stiles, after you drive Vivian home, we are going to have a conversation about something called invasion of privacy.”

* * *

Here it is: the first day of school. At least for me. Every other student is starting their second semester at Beacon Hills High School. I peer at the front of the school from the window of Griffin’s car, fingering my locket- it’s a silver circle, with a blackbird engraved on it.

“I remember it being smaller,” I say, butterflies growing in my stomach. The building definitely hadn’t looked this big during the tour.

“You’re going to be fine,” Griffin assures me, slowly making his way to the front of the drop-off spot. “Hey, and the principal told me that you’re not the only one starting today.”

I furrow my brows. “Really?”

He nods. “Yep. Some girl named Allison. She’s going to meet you and the vice principal outside the school in a few minutes.” He moves the car up some more and glances at me. “How you feeling?”

I shrug. “It’s just weird, you know? I don’t really know anyone here besides Stiles.”

“You’re going to be okay,” Griffin smiles. “It may take some getting used to- this is definitely not Los Angeles- but everything’s going to work out.”

“Yeah, I know.” I shake my head, clearing my thoughts as Griffin pulls into the drop-off spot.

“Okay, this is us,” he says as I grab my backpack from my feet and open the passenger side door. I shoulder my bag as I step onto the pavement, and stare up at the high school.

“You’re going to do great,” Griffin calls as I close the door. “Love you!”

“Love you, too,” I say as he puts the car into drive and heads off toward the sheriff’s station.

I take a moment to look around at everyone milling about. Everyone I see is talking to someone or heading off to class. Everyone seems to fit in.

“Viv!” A voice to my left calls, breaking me out of my thoughts. I turn and see Scott and Stiles by the stairs of a side door, Stiles waving his arm wildly at me. I lift my arm in a half-hearted wave of my own, and make my way toward them.

Once I get there, Stiles turns to Scott. “Okay, let’s see this thing,” he says, and Scott lifts his shirt to reveal a bandage. Stiles moves to touch it, but Scott pulls away.

“It was too dark to see much,” Scott says, “but I’m pretty sure it was a wolf.”

“A wolf?” I ask, confused. “Are you sure?”

“Uh-huh,” Scott says.

“No, not a chance," Stiles says.

“I heard a wolf howling.”

Stiles shakes his head. “No, you didn’t.”

“What do you mean no I didn’t? How do you know what I heard?” Scott asks, smiling slightly as we walk toward the doors.

“Because California doesn’t _have_ wolves, Scott,” I say. “Not in decades.”

Scott stops walking, and Stiles and I follow suit. “Really?”

“Yes. There aren’t any wolves in California.”

Scott shakes his head. “Well, if you guys don’t believe me about the wolf, then you’re definitely not going to believe me when I tell you I found the body.”

Stiles jumps a little at the information. “You- are you kidding me?” Stiles demands.

“No, man, I wish,” Scott says. “I’m gonna have nightmares for a month.”

“Oh, God, that is fucking awesome!"

“You are way too excited about a dead body in the woods,” I notice.

Ignoring me, he keeps talking. “I mean, this is seriously going to be the best fucking thing that’s happened to this town since-” Stiles trails off, unable to think of something. “Since the birth of Lydia Martin!” He exclaims as a red-haired girl appears in his view. So this is Lydia Martin. Stiles had told Scott and I over break how he had a crush on Lydia. "Hey, Lydia... you look..." Lydia strolls past, not looking at him. "Like you're gonna ignore me." I feel a pang in my chest when I hear Stiles try to talk to Lydia. I don’t recognize the feeling, so I shake it off. He turns to Scott. "You're the cause of this, you know.”

“Uh-huh,” Scott says, not believing him.

“Dragging me down to your nerd depths. I’m a nerd by association. I've been scarlet nerded by you."

“That’s not a thing,” I say, then check my watch. “Okay, I have to meet the vice principal at the front of the school.” I finger my necklace again, nervous. “God, does being the new girl always feel this scary?”

Stiles places a hand on my shoulder, smiling comfortingly. “You’re going to do great. Most of your classes are with Scott and I, so it’s not like you won’t know anyone. You’re going to be fine.”

I manage a small smile. “Thanks, Stiles.” I take a deep breath. “Wish me luck,” I say, turning to walk away.

“Good luck!” my friends chorus back.

Soon, I am at the front of the school, and spot a dark-haired girl on a bench. I quickly come to the conclusion that this is the Allison that Griffin had been talking about in the car. “Hi,” I greet. “Do you mind if I, um…” I trail off, gesturing to the space next to her.

“Oh, yeah, go ahead,” she says quickly. I sit down, pulling my backpack on my lap. “You’re new, too?”

“Yeah,” I nod. “Today’s my first day.”

“Mine, too.” She sticks out her hand. “I’m Allison Argent.”

I shake her hand, and introduce myself. “Vivian Byrne. Nice to meet you.”

“Nice to meet you, too.” Allison pulls her hand away and fiddles with the strap of her school bag. “Are you nervous?”

I nod. “Definitely. I’ve never been the new girl anywhere. I have two friends here already, but it’s still a school full of strangers, you know? Are you nervous?”

Allison nods. “I probably shouldn’t be- I’ve moved around my whole life, and been the new girl a thousand times, but- you’re right, it’s still a school full of strangers.”

“At least we have each other,” I say, smirking.

“That’s true,” Allison replies, smiling softly. Before either of us can say more, Allison’s phone rings. She looks at the caller ID and sighs. “My mom. Again.” She answers and says, “Mom, three calls on my first day is a little overdoing it.” She rifles through her bag, holding her phone to her ear by her shoulder. “Everything except a pen. Oh, my God, I didn’t actually forget a pen.”

Just then, the vice principal steps outside, waving toward Allison and I, and Allison hangs up with, “Okay, okay, I gotta go. Love ya.”

“Sorry to keep you waiting,” he says. “I’m Vice Principal James.” He reaches out to shake our hands as Allison and I stand up.

“Allison Argent,” Allison says, shouldering her bag.

“Vivian Byrne,” I say, nervously tucking a lock of hair behind my ear.

“Very nice to meet you both. Let’s get this tour started, shall we?” With that, the three of us move toward the front door. “So, where are you girls from?”

“I grew up in Los Angeles,” I answer, the door shutting behind me.

“San Francisco,” Allison adds, “but it isn’t where I grew up.”

“It’s not where you grew up?” Mr. James asks.

“No, but we lived there for more than a year, which is unusual in my family.”

“Well, hopefully Beacon Hills will be your last stop for a while.”

Allison’s face morphs into an expression that says she doesn’t really believe that.

After a few more seconds of agonizing small talk, we reach the door to the English classroom, where Allison and I both have our first class. I sigh, relieved that I have Stiles in my first class.

“Class, these are our new students, Allison Argent and Vivian Byrne,” the vice principal announces, gesturing to each of us. As the students’ eyes move between Allison and I, I shrink back, wishing I am invisible. I catch Stiles’s eye in the back of the room, and he winks, lessening some of the butterflies in my stomach. “Please do your best to make them feel welcome.”

Allison heads toward the seat right behind Scott, as I immediately move for the seat in front of Stiles, both of us keeping our heads down. As soon as Allison sits down, Scott turns and offers her the pen he was holding. She smiles, a little confused, but takes it. “Thanks.”

“We’ll begin with Kafka’s _Metamorphosis_ on page 133,” the teacher, who I remember from my schedule as Mr. Curtis, announces, and I take out a notebook and pen.

* * *

After what seems like years, the final bell rings, and I make my way down the hallway, searching for my locker. Finally, I find it, and sigh in relief. I smile when I see the person next to me. “Hey, locker buddy.”

Allison turns toward me, grinning. “Hey.”

“So, what do you want to bet they stuck us with lockers next to each other because we’re both new?” I ask, opening my locker, glad it doesn’t get stuck.

“That happened to me when I moved to Berkeley,” she says, rolling her eyes while opening her own locker. “I think they thought it was a good way to make friends, but it really just felt forced.”

“Good thing we’re already friends.” I freeze. “Unless you don’t think we are. Which is fine. I get it. I mean, we did only meet, like, five hours ago-”

“Vivian, take a breath,” Allison interrupts, holding back a laugh. “We’re friends.”

I calm down a little, smiling. “Good.”

Allison and I close our lockers and turn, spotting Scott and Stiles. Allison immediately smiles at Scott, and both of them are wearing a look like it’s love at first sight. Okay, now that is adorable.

“That jacket is absolutely killer,” a voice next to me says, causing me to turn toward it. In front of me is Lydia Martin, who is examining Allison’s outfit. She turns to me next. “And those boots are amazing.”

I self-consciously look down at my own outfit: black blazer, white button-down- both with the sleeves rolled up to my elbows-, purple tie with black paw prints, plain jeans, black studded combat boots, and of course my locket.

“Where did you two get them?” Lydia asks, bringing me back.

“A Marc Fisher sample sale last year,” I answer nervously, fingering my locket, though I don’t know why I’m nervous. Guess the whole day just has me anxious. “Got them for, like, ten dollars.”

“My mom was a buyer for a boutique back in San Francisco,” Allison says, fiddling with her bag strap.

Lydia points to the two of us, smiling. “And you two are my new best friends.”

We all share a small laugh as a boy comes up next to us, wrapping an arm around Lydia. “Hey,” she says as he leans forward and kisses her.

Jackson pulls away and looks at Allison and I. “Who are you?”

“Vivian,” I say, more confident now.

“Allison,” Allison answers, and Jackson shakes both our hands.

“So, this weekend there’s a party,” Lydia says, leaning against Jackson’s shoulder.

“A party?” Allison asks.

“Yeah,” Jackson says. “Friday night. You guys should come.”

Allison flounders for a response. “Uh, I can’t. It’s family night this Friday. Thanks for asking.”

“Well, what about you, Viv?” Lydia asks cheerfully.

“I- I don’t know,” I stammer. “Parties aren’t really my thing. I tend to get nervous in social situations, and trying to make small talk with a bunch of strangers seems terrifying.”

Jackson puts an arm up against the lockers and asks, “You guys sure? I mean, everyone’s going after the scrimmage.”

“You mean, like, football?” Allison questions.

Jackson scoffs. “Football’s a joke in Beacon. The sport here is lacrosse. We’ve won the state championship for the past three years.”

“Because of a certain team captain,” Lydia says proudly, playing with Jackson’s hair.

“Well, we have practice in a few minutes. That is, if you don’t have anywhere else-”

“Well, I was going to-” Allison starts, but Lydia cuts her off.

“Perfect. You’re coming.” With that, Lydia grabs Allison and I by our wrists, dragging us along with her and Jackson. I look over my shoulder at Stiles, waving a little.

He smiles back before the double doors close behind me.

* * *

The whistle blows as I sit on the bleachers, watching Scott and Stiles practice.

After a minute of watching the team, Allison speaks again. ”Who is that?” Allison asks, looking at Scott, who I realize Coach just put in the goal. From what Stiles told me of Scott’s skill, this was not going to end well.

Lydia follows her eyes. “Him? I’m not sure who he is. Why?”

“He’s in my English class,” Allison shrugs.

“That’s Scott McCall,” I answer. “He’s my friend.”

“Have you been friends long?”

“Like two weeks,” I chuckle. “My brother and I moved here during Christmas break. I grew up with Stiles- he’s in our English class, too- and my brother wanted to be closer to Stiles’s dad, who’s been a family friend since… well, forever, really. Stiles’s parents and my parents have been friends since they were in high school.”

That gains Lydia’s attention. “Your brother?” She asks. “What about your parents?”

I hesitate. “It’s um- it’s a long story.”

Allison and Lydia send me apologetic looks, but before they can say anything, the whistle blows, and a ball comes flying right toward Scott. It hits him right on the head. Well, it hits his helmet, but the impact still knocks him to the ground. I wince sympathetically.

“Way to catch with your face, McCall!” One of the players shouts.

Scott gets up and another player throws the ball. I expect him not to catch it, but to my surprise, the ball lands right in the stick’s net. “Way to go, McCall!” I shout, shooting my friend a thumbs up.

Players keep throwing the balls toward the goal, and everyone keeps expecting Scott to miss, but he catches all of them. “He seems like he’s pretty good,” Allison comments, impressed.

“Yeah, crazy good,” I agree, very confused. Stiles made it seem like Scott was horrible at lacrosse.

Just then, it is Jackson’s turn. Jackson is the captain of the team, and obviously the best player. He threw the ball toward Scott. I hold my breath in anticipation, knowing that Scott wouldn’t be able to catch this one. However, Scott is able to catch it. It’s unbelievable.

Nevertheless, I jump up and cheer for my friend. I am joined by Lydia, which I think is a little weird since what was her boyfriend that failed to get the ball in the goal.

“That is my friend!” I hear Stiles shout, grinning, making me grateful for the supportive goofball.

Scott snaps the ball over to the assistant coach, looking confident, and I am still confused. Not to sound mean, but Stiles made it seem like Scott wasn’t very good at lacrosse, and I haven’t seen either of them practice the few weeks I’ve been in town.

* * *

“I don’t know what it was,” Scott said as he, Stiles, and I go for a walk in the woods after practice. We all agreed to look for Scott’s inhaler that he’d dropped the night before. “It was like I had all the time in the world to catch the ball. And that’s not the only weird thing. I can… hear stuff I shouldn’t be able to hear. Smell things.”

“Smell things?” Stiles questions. “Like what?”

Scott nods toward Stiles’s jacket. “Like, Mint Mojito Gum in your pocket.”

Stiles scoffs and stops walking as he checks his jacket pocket. “I don’t even have any Mint Mojito…” he trails off as he pulls out a packet of gum.

“Scott, it’s fine,” I assure him as we all continue on the path. “Your body is just going through some changes. Things will start happening to you that you don’t understand. It’ll confuse you, but it’s a magical time.”

“Shut up!” Comes Scott’s quick response.

I stop him in his tracks by placing my hands on his shoulders. “Dude, don’t worry. It’s all normal. It’s just your body’s way of telling you that you are a woman.” Stiles snorts.

Scott looks at me in exasperation. “Why are you like this?”

I grin as he pulls away and we all continue walking. “So, all this started with a bite,” Stiles says, bringing us back on track.

“What if it’s like an infection, like my body’s flooding with adrenaline before I go into shock or something?” Scott asks, concern showing in his voice.

“You know what, I actually think I’ve heard of this,” Stiles says. “It’s a specific kind of infection.”

Scott stops walking. “Are you serious?” He asks.

“Yeah, yeah, I think it’s called lycanthropy.”

“What’s that? Is that bad?” Scott’s expression begins to morph into one of fear.

I catch on to what Stiles was doing. “Oh, yeah, it’s _awful_. But it only happens once a month.”

Scott turns toward me, furrowing his eyebrows. “Once a month?”

I nod, acting completely serious. “Yep. On the night of the full moon.”

Stiles howls and I burst out laughing.

“Hey, man,” Scott says, annoyed. He shoves Stiles and keeps walking.

“Hey, you’re the one who heard a wolf howling,” Stiles laughs.

“There could be something seriously wrong with me,” Scott insists.

“I know! You’re a werewolf!” He growls playfully, and Scott shoots him a look. “Okay, obviously I’m kidding. But if you see me in shop class trying to melt all the silver I can find, it’s ‘cause Friday’s a full moon."

We stop at the spot Scott thinks he had dropped his inhaler. “No, I could have sworn this was it,” Scott says, confused. “I saw the body, the deer came running. I dropped my inhaler.” He kneels down and sifts through the leaves.

“Maybe the killer moved the body,” Stiles suggests.

“If he did, I hope he left my inhaler. Those things are, like, eighty bucks.”

I turn and see a man not much older than us standing in the woods watching them. “Oh, my God." I hit Scott’s shoulder, making him turn and get up. Stiles grabs my wrist and pulls me back. “What are you doing here?” The man demands, walking toward us. None of us answer. “Huh? This is private property.”

“Uh, sorry man, we didn’t know,” Stiles says. He tightens his grip on my hand as the man steps closer.

“Yeah, we were just looking for something, but…” Scott trails off. “Uh, forget it.”

The man pulls something out of his pocket and tossed it to Scott. My eyes widen. It was Scott’s inhaler. Without a word, he walks away.

“Alright, I gotta get to work,” Scott says.

As soon as the man is out of earshot, Stiles grabs onto Scott’s shoulder. “Dude that was Derek Hale. You remember, right? He’s only like a few years older than us.”

“Remember what?”

“His family. They all burned to death in a fire, like, ten years ago.”

We all look in the direction he walked away. "I wonder what he’s doing back,” Scott says.

“If being terrifying was his goal, then he definitely accomplished it,” I comment, relaxing a little now that Derek Hale is gone.

* * *

Stiles and I race out onto the field the next day at lacrosse practice, eyes flitting about looking for Scott. Finally, I spot Scott getting geared up on the bench.

“Scott!” Stiles shrieks. “Scott, wait up!” We come to a stop behind Scott. I rest my hands on my knees, slightly out of breath. Wow, I need to work out more.

Scott stands, saying, “Stiles, Viv, I’m playing the first elimination, man- can it wait?”

“Just hold on, okay?” Stiles asks, tapping Scott’s shoulder. “I overheard my dad on the phone.”

“And then I overheard my brother talking to Stiles’s dad on the phone,” I chime in.

“The fiber analysis came back from the lab in L.A.,” Stiles continues. “They found animal hairs on the body from the woods.”

“Stiles, I gotta go,” Scott says, grabbing his stick and helmet.

Stiles moves clumsily around the bench, trying to grab Scott’s arm. “Wait, no! Scott! You’re not gonna believe what the animal was!”

Unfortunately, Scott doesn’t even hear us, since he’s already on the field. I sigh, “It was a wolf.”

Just then, Coach blows the whistle, signaling the start of practice. Stiles huffs in frustration. “We will talk after,” he says to me, and joins the team out on the field.

I climb the bleachers toward the top and decide to take out a book while I wait. I spot Allison walking up, smiling as she waves to Scott, and makes her way up the bleachers to where I am sitting. “Good book?” She asks, smirking a little at the size of my book.

I grin, holding up the open novel. “ _Harry Potter and the Order of the Phoenix_ ,” I say, marking my page with a bookmark. “Best one in the series.”

Allison furrows her eyebrows, sitting next to me and placing her bag at her feet. “Why’s that?”

“In this one, no one believes Harry about Voldemort being back. It’s all these teenagers fighting for their world because the adults won’t, so they take matters into their own hands.” I blush. “I mostly just really love the trope of the teenagers doing a better job saving the world than the adults.”

“That’s really cool.” Allison shakes her head a little. “It’s been forever since I read _Harry Potter_.”

I hesitate, then say, “Well, I have the whole series at home if you want to borrow it.”

She smiles. “That sounds awesome.”

Just then, the boys start practice. And as my friend and I watch the boys play I feel something I haven’t felt in a long time. Smiling and laughing with a friend, talking about books, I feel normal.

* * *

The next day, Scott and I meet Stiles at his house. When we both reach his room, we see the floor covered in pieces of paper.

“Get in,” Stiles orders. “You gotta see this thing. I’ve been up all night reading- websites, books, all this information.” Stiles begins digging quickly through the papers.

“How much Adderall have you had today?” I ask, slightly amused at our friend’s antics.

“A lot,” Stiles replies, and I snort. “Doesn’t matter. Okay, just listen, both of you.”

“Oh, is this about the body?” Scott asks, tossing his backpack down as we sit on the bed. “Did they find out who did it?”

“No, they’re still questioning people. Even Derek Hale.”

“The guy in the woods who almost gave me a heart attack?” I question.

“Yeah!” Stiles waves his arms. “Yes! But that’s not it, okay?”

I hold back a laugh. “What, then?”

“Remember the joke from the other day? Not a joke anymore.” Scott and I exchange a confused look, and Stiles elaborates. “The wolf, the bite in the woods,” Stiles clarifies. “I started doing all this reading.” He suddenly stands up. “Do you even know why a wolf howls?”

“Should I?” Scott asks, confused as to where this subject change is going.

“It’s a signal, okay? When a wolf’s alone, it howls to signal its location to the rest of the pack. So if you heard a wolf howling, that means others could have been nearby. Maybe even a whole pack of them.”

“A whole pack of wolves?” Scott questions, disbelieving.

“No… werewolves.”

“Are you seriously wasting my time with this?” Scott demands, standing up and grabbing his bag. “You know I’m picking up Allison in an hour.”

“I saw you on the field today, Scott,” Stiles says. “Okay, What you did wasn’t just amazing, alright? It was impossible.”

Scott shrugs. “Yeah, so I made a good shot.”

“No, you made an incredible shot!” Stiles takes Scott’s backpack out of his hands and puts it back on the bed. “I mean, the way you moved, your speed, your reflexes. People can’t just suddenly do that overnight.”

Scott still doesn’t look believing.

“Oh, come on.” Stiles turns to me. “I mean, you believe me, right?”

“I believe you,” I say immediately, standing up.

“Thank you, Vivvy!” Stiles exclaims, throwing an arm around me.

“You do?” Scott demands.

I nod. “Yeah. I trust Stiles. If Stiles thinks you’re a werewolf, then Scott, you’re a werewolf.” Scott looks at me like I'm crazy. “I mean, come on. There’s the vision, the senses. And don’t think I haven’t noticed you not using your inhaler at all the past few days.”

“Okay!” Scott exclaims. “Dude, I can’t think about this now. We’ll talk tomorrow.”

Stiles looks at Scott like he’s insane. “Tomorrow?! What? No! The full moon is tonight. Don’t you get it?”

“What are you both trying to do? I just made first line. I got a date with a girl who I can’t believe wants to go out with me, and everything in my life is somehow perfect. Why are you trying to ruin it?”

“Scott, we’re not trying to ruin anything,” I promise. I try to keep my voice calm as I try to reassure Scott. “We’re just trying to help.”

“You’re cursed, Scott,” Stiles adds. “You know, and it’s not just that the moon will cause you to physically change. It also just so happens to be when your bloodlust will be at its peak.”

“Bloodlust,” Scott repeats.

“Yeah, your urge to kill.”

“I’m already starting to feel an urge to kill, Stiles.”

“You gotta hear this.” Stiles unearths a book off the desk and starts reading aloud from it. “'The change can be caused by anger or anything that raises your pulse.' All right? I haven’t seen anyone raise your pulse like Allison does.”

I turn and start rifling through my bag for my cell cellphone. “You have to cancel this date. I'm going to call her right now.”

“What are you doing?” Scott asks me.

“I’m canceling the date,” I say like it’s obvious.

“No, give it to me!” Scott yells, seizing me and shoving me up against the wall. Scott’s fist is inches from my face when he suddenly shouts angrily and tosses the office chair across the floor, causing me to breathe in sharply.

Scott pants and turns to face me again. I stand frozen against the wall, breathing hard. “I’m sorry. I gotta go get ready for that party.” He turns and takes his backpack from Stiles's bed. “I’m sorry," he repeats, and walks out of the room.

As soon as Scott shuts the door behind him, Stiles walks quickly over to me. “You okay?” He asks, placing a hand on my shoulder, worry lacing his tone.

I manage a nod, stunned at what just happened. “Yeah. Yeah, I’m fine.” I shake the shock off. “I’ve never seen anyone get that angry.” Satisfied that I’m okay, Stiles goes to pick up his chair, but he freezes. “What?” I walk over and see the chair. On the back of it are three large tears, like the chair had been clawed. Yep. Scott is definitely a werewolf.

Stiles and I share a glance. “We have to get to that party,” I say, and Stiles nods in agreement.

* * *

When we get to the party, I hesitate to open the passenger side door to Stiles’s Jeep. “Okay, is it normal to be stressed out about going to a high school party?” I ask, peering through the window at Lydia’s house.

At that, Stiles moves his hand away from the door handle on his side and looks over at me. “You’ll be okay,” he assures me.

“I’ve never actually been to a party before,” I say, looking back at him. “I’m always afraid I won’t know what to say, or how to act, and is there dancing? I don’t know how to dance. And am I even wearing the right thing?” I look down at my outfit, sure that it is all wrong. Stiles and I had stopped at my house so that I could change into a nice blouse with my leather jacket and some cute ankle booties. In my mirror at home, I thought I looked good, but now I’m not so sure. “God, I’m probably not wearing the right thing. I don’t even really know anybody in there. I mean, I know Lydia and Jackson, and obviously Scott and Allison are in there, and I know you, but that’s basically it. You know what, maybe I should just stay in the car.” I know I’m full on rambling now, but I can’t seem to make my mouth stop moving. “Yeah, I should just stay here-”

“Hey, hey, hey, stop,” Stiles rushes out, holding back a smile. “Breathe.” He places his hands over mine in an attempt to calm me down. “It’s okay.” He waits for me to take a deep breath, and when I finally do, he continues. “Look, I’m going to be in there, too. I’m going to stick with you the whole time, and it’s going to be fine.” He pauses, letting that sink in. “You don’t have to dance, you look great, and, hey, you don’t even have to talk to anybody if you don’t want to.”

I scoff. “What?”

Stiles nods. “Yeah.” He pokes my bag. “I know you have a book in there. If you want to just camp out in a corner and read while we keep an eye on Scott, that’s cool.”

I smile, calming down a little. “I feel like that’s not the point of a party.”

Stiles shrugs. “Hey, if it’s good enough for Rory Gilmore…”

I laugh, significantly calmer now. Finally, I stop laughing and look at Stiles, who is smiling softly at me. “Thanks for that,” I say, immensely grateful I’m friends with this boy.

“No problem.” He glances behind me at Lydia’s house. “So, you ready to brave this?”

I look out the window at all the people going into the house. I’m nervous, but I know I have Stiles with me. Finally, I nod. “Yeah. Yeah, I’m good.”

“Awesome,” he smirks, stepping out onto the pavement and moving around the Jeep to open the passenger side door for me.

“Thanks,” I say, shouldering my bag.

“So, what book do you have in there?” He asks, eyeing my bag.

I blush a little. “ _City of Bones_.”

He laughs, hooking his arm through my elbow. “Let’s go, Gilmore,” he says, leading me up the steps and into the house.

Almost as soon as we get inside, a body crashes into me, nearly knocking me down. I gasp, stumbling back, but Stiles catches me before I fall. My mind processes that it was Scott that crashed into me, and I notice that he looks totally drunk. Why do I have the feeling that his sluggish movements are not caused by drinking?

“Yo, Scott, you good?” Stiles asks, but Scott walks away, completely ignoring him.

“Are you okay?” A girl- who I recognize from my science class as Harley- asks Scott next. He ignores her, too, continuing toward the exit.

Stiles and I exchange a look, and rush back outside, but Scott had already driven away, leaving Allison at the curb. I’m about to walk up to her when I spot her walking away with Derek Hale.

As Stiles and I get into his Jeep, I send a quick text to Allison. _Hey, just saw you leave the party with someone. Not that I don’t trust you, but can you text me when you get home?_

A moment later, my phone pings with her response. _Sure thing :)_

Deciding to check Scott’s house for him first, Stiles speeds off in that direction.

* * *

As soon as we get there, we race up the stairs to Scott’s bedroom, and Stiles starts pounding on Scott’s door.

“Go away!” A distant voice shouts.

“Scott!” Stiles calls through Scott's bedroom door. “It’s us.” Scott cracks open the door, but won’t open it wide enough for us to go through. “Let us in, Scott. We can help.”

“No!” Scott says, sounding like he’s in pain. “Listen, you gotta find Allison.”

“She’s fine,” Stiles says, attempting to push open the door further. We saw her get a ride from the party. She’s totally fine.”

“No, I think I know who it is.”

“Just let us in,” I beg.

“It’s Derek!” Scott bursts out. “Derek Hale is the werewolf. He’s the one that bit me. He’s the one that killed the girl in the woods.”

Stiles and I freeze, and fear starts seeping into my mind.

“Scott… Derek’s the one who drove Allison from the party,” Stiles says slowly.

My heart nearly stops with those words. My new friend could be with a literal killer right now.

Before I can do anything, Scott slams the door shut again and locks it. “Scott!” Stiles shouts, banging on the door.

* * *

When we figure out that Scott has left, Stiles and I immediately drive to Allison’s house. “Did she answer you back?” Stiles asks as we speed down the street.

“She said she would let me know when she got home, but she never actually did,” I say, scrolling through my messages and only seeing Allison’s _Sure thing :)_

When we finally pull into Allison’s driveway, I am out of the car before Stiles can even put it in park. We run up the front steps and I ring the doorbell five times, desperately hoping Allison is okay. I may not have known her very long, but she’s already my friend. Finally, Allison’s mother opens the door. “Hi, Mrs. Argent,” Stiles says. “Um, you have no idea who we are. We’re friends of your daughter’s. Uh, look this is gonna sound kind of crazy, um…”

I can see Mrs. Argent getting annoyed already, so I interrupt. “We know Allison left the party abruptly and wanted to make sure she was okay.”

“Allison!” Mrs. Argent calls. “It’s for you.”

Allison walks onto the landing and looks at us in confusion. In my head, I sigh in relief and relax.

“Viv?” She asks, walking down the stairs. “What’s going on?”

“Oh, um, sorry,” I stammer. “You never answered me back, so I just wanted to make sure you were okay.”

“Oh, sorry,” Allison says through a slight laugh. “I was literally just about to text you that I got home.”

After that, Stiles and I somehow convinced her we are in fact _not_ crazy, and to at least hear Scott out, before we head back to the Jeep to continue our search for Scott.

On the way down the road, I call Scott, but it just goes straight to voicemail. I shake my head at Stiles’s questioning glance, and I grow more worried by the second.

* * *

It’s morning when we find Scott walking down the street near the woods. We pull up next to him and he gets in. As we continue driving, Scott speaks. “You know what actually worries me the most?” He asks.

“If you say Allison, I’m gonna punch you in the head,” Stiles says, and I snort.

“She probably hates me now.”

“I doubt that,” Stiles assures him. “But you might want to come up with a pretty amazing apology. Or, you know, you could just… tell her the truth and… revel in the awesomeness of the fact that you’re a fucking werewolf.” We both give him a look.

“That is the worst fucking idea I have ever heard,” I say from my position in the backseat.

“Okay, bad idea,” Stiles admits.

I reach forward and squeeze Scott’s shoulder. “We’ll get through this. I promise.”

“If I have to,” Stiles continues, “I’ll chain you up myself on full moon nights and feed you live mice. I had a boa once, I could do it.”

“Oh, I remember Medusa,” I say fondly. “She was so fun.”

“You named your snake Medusa?” Scott asks Stiles in disbelief.

“Actually, that was all her,” Stiles smiles, nodding his head toward me.

I grin. “I was obsessed with mythology when I was a kid. Medusa was a woman Athena cursed because Poseidon was a dick. Her hair turned into tiny snakes and she could turn people to stone by looking them in the eye.”

Stiles glances at me in the rearview mirror. “I remember you dressing up as her for Halloween when we were eleven.”

“I thought Medusa deserved some justice,” I shrug. “Hazel thought it was hilarious, especially since she was dressed as Athena.” I feel that familiar pang in my chest, as I usually do at the mention of my twin. But as Stiles sends me a small smile, the three of us continuing our banter all the way home, for the first time since that fateful night almost three years ago, I feel alright.


	2. Second Chance at First Line

I am walking down the hall, heading to the lacrosse field to watch practice, after I finish making up a test when I hear a commotion coming from the locker room. I run in and see Scott, in werewolf form, crouched on top of the lockers. I yank Stiles behind me, grab the fire extinguisher off the wall and start spraying just as Scott lunges. Scott falls back, growling loudly as I continue spraying. Stiles and I stumble out of the locker room. I hug the fire extinguisher close to my chest while Stiles has a tight grip on my arm. “You okay?” I ask Stiles. He nods frantically, trying to calm himself down.

“Stiles,” Scott’s voice comes. “Vivian.” I peek inside the locker room and sigh in relief when I see Scott sitting on a bench, perfectly himself again. “What happened?”

I drop the extinguisher on the ground as Stiles and I walk fully into the room. “You tried to kill me,” Stiles says bluntly. He gestures to me. “Viv stopped you.” He kneels next to Scott. “It’s like we told you before. It’s the anger. It’s your pulse rising. It’s a trigger.”

“But that’s lacrosse,” Scott defends. “It’s a pretty violent game, if you hadn’t noticed.”

“Well, it’s gonna be a lot more violent if you end up killing someone on the field. You can’t play Saturday. You’re going to have to get out of the game.”

Scott looks at Stiles incredulously. “I’m first line.”

I look at him sadly. “Not anymore.”

* * *

After math class the next day, Stiles yanks Scott against the wall. “What the hell are you doing?” I ask as I follow.

Stiles points to two officers- my brother and Stiles’s father- and the principal. “Tell me what they’re saying,” he says to Scott. “Can you hear them?” Scott shushes him.

“Curfew because of the body,” Scott says after listening for a moment.

“Unbelievable,” Stiles says. He gestures between him and I. “My dad and Viv’s brother are out looking for a rabid animal while the jerk-off that actually killed the girl is just hanging out, doing whatever he wants.”

“We can’t exactly tell your dad and Griffin the truth about Derek,” I point out.

“I can do something.”

“Like what?” Scott asks.

“Find the other half of the body.”

Scott and I exchange an incredulous look as Stiles walks away. “Hold on, what?” I ask as I chase after Stiles, leaving Scott to follow.

“Are you kidding?” Scott calls, running after us.

* * *

After school, Stiles and I burst into Scott’s room. “What did you find? How did you find it? Where did you find it?” Stiles demands, the words flying out of him as he trips coming through the door. “And, yes, I’ve had a lot of Adderall, so…”

“I found something at Derek Hale’s,” Scott answers.

“What did you find?” I ask, getting excited.

“There’s something buried there- I could smell blood.”

“That’s awesome!” Stiles exclaims. I turn to him, a similar look of confusion on both mine and Scott’s faces. He quickly corrects himself. “I mean, that’s terrible.”

“Whose blood was it?” I ask.

Scott stands, saying, “I don’t know. But when we do, Stiles, your dad nails Derek for the murder. And then you guys help me figure out how to play lacrosse without changing. Because there’s no way I’m not playing that game.”

* * *

All three of us end up going to the Beacon Hills hospital, looking for the morgue. When we reach it, Scott goes in, and Stiles and I stay in the waiting room. “Good luck, I guess,” Stiles says as he goes in.

“Is this a thing people say good luck for?” I ask Stiles.

“No fucking clue.”

We walk further into the room and I see Lydia Martin sitting in one of the chairs. Stiles leans over the counter as he notices her. I feel the same pang in my chest that I had the first day of school. It feels weird. I mean, it’s not like I’m sad Stiles doesn’t like me the way he likes Lydia, right? No, definitely not. I mean, I like Stiles, but more as a friend. Yeah, definitely as a friend.

I am interrupted from my thoughts when Stiles straightens and begins walking over to Lydia. “Hey, Lydia,” Stiles says. She looks up at him, and Stiles smiles nervously. I sit in a seat around the corner and pick up a magazine, pretending I’m not totally eavesdropping. “You probably don’t remember me. Um, I sit behind you in biology. Uh, anyway, I always thought that we just had this kind of connection. Unspoken, of course. Maybe it’d be kind of cool to, uh... get to know each other a little better.”

I peek around the corner to see what’s happening. “Hold on, give me a second,” Lydia says, reaching up toward her ear. And she takes out an earpiece. That’s great, Lydia. “Yeah, I didn’t get any of what you just said. Is it worth repeating?”

Stiles laughs nervously. “Um... no,” Stiles stammers. “Sorry. I’m gonna sit. You don’t care.” I quickly turn around just as Stiles sits next to me. “Shut up,” he orders.

“I’m not saying anything,” I say, lifting my hands in surrender. “It’s just-”

“And here we go.” He puts his head in his hands.

“If Lydia Martin doesn’t see how great you are, Stiles, then that’s her loss.”

He looks up at me. “Really?” He asks.

I squeeze his shoulder, nodding. “Really.”

Before we can say anything else, Lydia stands up suddenly, and walks toward Jackson. “Did he do it?” She asks.

“He said not to make a habit of it, but one cortisone shot won’t kill me,” Jackson says, rubbing his shoulder.

“You should get one right before the game, too.” At Jackson’s annoyed look, she continues. “The pros do it all the time. You want to be a little high school amateur? Or… do you want to go… pro?” She steps closer to Jackson with each word before she is suddenly kissing him.

I wrinkle my nose, turning away from the make-out session. “Ugh, we are in a hospital, people,” I grumble.

Stiles grabs the magazine from my hands. "Multiple, so many paper cuts," I mutter, eyes moving from my hands to Stiles. He ignores me and starts flipping through it faster than he would if he was actually reading it in an attempt to distract himself.

Suddenly, the magazine is ripped out of Stiles’s hands by Scott. “O-oh, God,” Stiles jumps.

“The scent was the same,” he says.

“Are you sure?” I ask as Stiles and I stand.

“Yes.”

“So, he did bury the other half of the body on his property,” Stiles says.

“Which means we have proof he killed the girl,” I finish.

“I say we use it.” At that, Stiles walks down the hallway.

“How?” Scott asks as we follow him.

Stiles whips around at Scott. “Tell me something first. Are you doing this because you want to stop Derek, or because you want to play the game and he said you couldn’t?”

“There were bite marks on the legs, Stiles,” Scott says. “Bite marks.”

Nodding, Stiles tells us his plan. “Okay. Then we’re gonna need some shovels.”

* * *

That night, the three of us head to the remains of the Hale house. As soon as we see Derek drive away, Stiles drives his Jeep up to the house. Scott holds flashlights while Stiles and I carry the shovels.

“Wait, something’s different,” Scott says.

“Different how?” Stiles asks.

“I don't know. Let’s just get this over with.” I hand Scott a shovel and we all start digging.

After a while, we had dug deep, but we weren't finding anything. Jesus Christ, how deep is this body?

“Should it be taking this long?” Scott asks.

“Just keep going,” Stiles says.

“What if he comes back?”

“Then we get the hell out of here,” I answer.

“What if he catches us?” Scott asks.

“I have a plan for that,” Stiles says.

“Which is?”

“You run one way. Vivian runs another, and I run another. Whoever he catches first, too bad.”

Scott and I exchange a look of disbelief and Scott looks at Stiles in exasperation. “I hate that plan,” he says.

Suddenly, my shovel stops short. “Oh, guys, stop! I got something.” We toss the shovels to the side, reaching down to brush the remaining dirt away before moving to untie the ropes on the sack holding the body.

“Hurry,” Scott says.

“Trying,” I answer. “God, did he really have to tie this thing in like ten thousand knots?”

“I’ll do it.”

With all of us working together, we finally got all of the ropes unknotted. We pull back the burlap bag, revealing a wolf. We jump out of the hole, all of us screaming. “What the hell is that?” Stiles demands.

“It’s a wolf,” I answer, swallowing hard.

“Yeah, I can see that.”

“I thought it was _human_ blood you smelled,” I say.

“I told you something was different,” is all Scott can manage.

I shake my head. “This doesn’t make sense. Okay, we’ve gotta get out of here.”

“Okay, help me cover this up,” Stiles says. We all cover the wolf body up with the burlap cloth.

Suddenly, Stiles stops. “You see that flower?”

I follow his eyes and notice a purple flower a few feet away. “What about it?” Scott asks.

“I think it’s wolfsbane.”

“What’s that?”

“Uh… haven’t you ever seen _The Wolf Man_?” Stiles asks, shocked Scott doesn’t know what he’s talking about.

Scott shakes his head. “No.”

“Lon Chaney Jr.?” I ask. “Claude Rains?” Scott still looks clueless. “Dude, it’s the original werewolf movie!”

Stiles points at me, an impressed look in his eyes. “Now, this one knows what she’s talking about.”

“No!” Scott exclaims. “What?”

“You are so unprepared for this,” Stiles says. He gets up and walks over the wolfsbane. I exchange a look with Scott. What the hell is he doing? Stiles begins to pull the flower from the ground, but finds it’s attached to a piece of rope. He continues ripping it up, creating a spiral around the wolf.

Suddenly, I look down and gasp. “Guys,” I say. Scott follows my gaze, and we stand up in shock. Stiles walks back over to us and looks down in the hole, jumping back with a “Holy shit” once he sees what we see.

The wolf is now a person.

* * *

The next day, we are all at the Hale house, and the police are arresting Derek. Scott and I are leaning against Stiles’s Jeep when Stiles suddenly walks up to the police car Derek was put in. Despite our quiet protests, Stiles gets into the vehicle. Scott turns around and I bury my head in my hands, unable to watch what may occur. Suddenly, Stiles is yanked out of the car by his father.

Noah drags Stiles away from the vehicle. “What the hell do you think you’re doing?” Mr. S. demands.

“I’m just trying to help,” Stiles defends.

Noah nods, obviously not believing his son. “Okay, well how about you help me understand exactly how you came across this.” I rack my brain for an excuse, but can’t come up with anything.

“We were looking for Scott’s inhaler,” Stiles huffs out, not thinking. I inwardly facepalm. Oh, anything but that, Stiles.

“Which he dropped when?”

“The other night.”

“The other night when you and Vivian were out here looking for the first half of the body.”

Stiles nods. “Yes.”

“The night that you told me you two were alone and Scott was at home.”

“Yes.” Just then, Stiles realizes what he said and tries to correct himself. “No. Oh, crap.” I sigh.

“So you lied to me,” Noah concludes.

“That depends on how you define lying.”

“Well, I define it as not telling the truth. How do you define it?”

Stiles hesitates. “Reclining your body in a horizontal position?” He says, but his tone makes it sound like a question.

“Get the hell out of here,” Noah orders.

“Absolutely.”

* * *

“I can’t find anything about wolfsbane being used for burial,” Scott says as we drive down the road.

“Just go to _how-to-be-a-werewolf.com_ ,” I say.

“That’s a thing?” Scott asks, totally believing me.

I send him a look of disbelief. “No.”

“Just keep looking,” Stiles says.

“Maybe it’s for some ritual or something,” I suggest. “Like, they’re buried as wolves.”

“Or maybe it’s like a special skill. Like something you have to learn.”

“I’ll put it on my To Do list,” Scott answers, annoyed. “Right underneath figuring out how the hell I’m playing this game tonight.”

“Maybe it’s different for girl werewolves,” I wonder.

“Okay, stop it!” Scott shouts suddenly, making me jump at his volume.

“Stop what?” Stiles asks.

“Stop saying ‘werewolves’!” Scott shouts. “Stop enjoying this so much.”

“Scott, you don’t look good,” I notice. He’s not just pale, he looks sick, like he’s about to throw up or something.

”Are you okay?” Stiles asks, noticing how Scott looks, too.

“No! No, I’m not,” Scott says. “I’m so far from being okay.”

“You know, you’re gonna have to accept this, Scott, sooner or later.”

“I can’t.”

“Well you’re gonna have to.”

“No! I can’t breathe. Aah!” Suddenly he hits the roof of the car, causing Stiles to swerve.

“Whoa, whoa, whoa, whoa, whoa,” Stiles says as he struggles to regain control of the Jeep.

I look over at Scott and see he is hunched over, looking sicker than he did a moment ago. “Pull over!” I order Stiles.

“Why, what’s happening?” Stiles asks.

“I don’t know, maybe it’s the fact that Scott looks like he’s about to throw up.” Suddenly, my eyes land on Stiles’s backpack. Apparently having the same thought as me, Scott reaches over and opens the bag, revealing wolfsbane.

“You kept it?” Scott demands.

“What was I supposed to do with it?” Stiles asks.

“Maybe throw it in your trash,” I suggest. “Not keep it anywhere near our werewolf friend.”

“Stop the car!” Scott yells. His eyes are now glowing yellow. Stiles immediately stops the car and runs out with his bag. He runs toward the woods and throws his backpack as far away as he can.

“We’re good,” Stiles says. “You can…” he turns back to the car and trails off. I follow his gaze to the passenger seat and realize Scott is not in the car anymore. Shit.

* * *

“ _Stiles, you know you can’t call the dispatch line when I’m on duty_ ,” a voice comes through the communication device Stiles has connected to his car.

“I just need to know if you’ve gotten any odd calls,” Stiles says.

“ _Odd how_?”

“Uh, like an odd person or… a dog-like individual roaming the streets.”

“ _I’m hanging up on you now_ ,” the person says.

“No! W-w-w-w-wait!” Stiles stammers. There is a click, and Stiles groans.

“I texted my brother,” I say, shoving my phone back in my pocket. “He hasn’t seen or heard anything weird at the station.”

* * *

That night, I am seated next to Scott’s mom in the stands. I know Scott shouldn’t be playing, but I also know that there is no talking him out of this. The whistle blows and the players run out onto the field. I’m more worried than I thought I would be. I hope Scott won’t lose it tonight.

I see Scott run toward the ball, and Jackson follows. Just as Scott goes to scoop up the ball, Jackson shoves Scott out of the way. The crowd cheers once Jackson makes the goal. “Do I have to cheer?” I ask. Melissa looks annoyed that Jackson did that, but she claps halfheartedly. I look to the left and see Allison and Lydia holding up a sign for Jackson. At least Allison looks a little annoyed about it.

Everyone sets up for the next play, and the whistle sounds. The ball shoots into the air and before anyone else can reach it, Scott makes a crazy leap and catches it. I groan inwardly. Seriously, Scott, you need to tone down the werewolf stuff. He dodges every player that comes at him from the other team and makes the goal.

The crowd cheers. “Whoo!” I yell, Ms. McCall and I hugging each other in happiness.

During the next play, I notice Scott standing in an almost predatory position. Oh, God. I realize he shifted. He shoots the ball, and it goes straight past the goalie and into the net, bringing us one point more than the guest team.

The crowd cheers again and we all run onto the field. I join Stiles down by the players’ area. “Good game,” I say to Stiles.

“Uh-huh,” I hear Noah say. I turn and see he is talking on his cell phone.

“Dad?” Stiles asks. “What’s wrong?”

His father holds up a finger to indicate to Stiles to wait a minute. After he hangs up, Stiles asks what was wrong again. After some hesitation from Noah and _slight_ badgering on mine and Stiles parts, Noah tells us that Griffin had called him about how the medical examiner looked at the other half of the body we found. He says that it was an animal who killed the girl, and not a human. Derek is being let out of jail because they’ve determined him to not be the killer. Oh, and get this. The girl who was killed? Her name was Laura Hale.

Derek’s sister.


	3. Pack Mentality

I’m walking down the hall at school when I spot Stiles and Scott. “You think it has something to do with me going out with Allison tomorrow.”

“What has to do with you going out with Allison?” I ask as I fall into place with them.

“Scott dreamt that he killed Allison last night,” Stiles says.

I falter. “That is not good.” I take one look at Scott’s face and realize that was not the right thing to say. “Sorry.”

“You guys think I’m gonna lose control and rip her throat out,” Scott says.

“No, of course not,” Stiles assures. Scott sends him a look. “Yeah that’s totally it.”

I roll my eyes. “Scott, you are not going to hurt her. It’s going to be fine. You’re handling this really fucking well.”

Stiles nods in agreement. “You know, it’s like not there's a Lycanthropy for Beginners class you can take.”

“There should be.”

“Yeah, not a class, but maybe a teacher,” Scott says.

I shake my head. “I don’t think we know any werewolf teachers.”

“Derek?” Stiles exclaims. He hits Scott over the head. “You forgetting the part where we got him tossed in jail?”

“Yeah, I know, but chasing her, dragging her to the back of the bus, it felt so real.”

“How real?”

“Like it actually happened.”

The three of us make it outside to meet a horrifying sight. A school bus was in the parking lot covered in blood and the emergency exit door ripped off.

“I think it did,” Stiles says.

* * *

“She’s probably fine,” I say as Stiles and I chase Scott down the hallway. All of us are now sufficiently freaked out.

“She’s not answering my texts, Viv,” Scott says.

“It could just be a coincidence, alright?” Stiles points out as Scott looks frantically around the hallway.

I nod in agreement. “Yeah! Maybe her phone died, or she forgot it at home, or something that prohibits her from answering you.”

“A seriously amazing coincidence,” Stiles continues.

I point at Stiles. “Okay, you are not helping.”

“Just help me find her okay?” Scott asks. I can sense him shifting into panic mode. I take out my own cell phone and text Allison, but she doesn’t answer me, either. “Do you see her?”

“No,” Stiles and I answer. Scott runs ahead of us.

 _“Attention students, this is your principal. I know you’re all wondering about the incident that occurred last night to one of our buses. While the police work to determine what happened, classes will proceed as scheduled.”_ Stiles and I both groan along with many of our classmates. _“Thank you.”_

* * *

In chemistry class, Harris sticks to the principal’s directions and is teaching us like nothing is going on. It isn’t working though, as everyone around me keeps whispering about the bus. I cannot focus, especially since my lab partner keeps talking. “Maybe it was my blood on the door,” Scott says, turning back to look at Stiles and I.

“Could have been animal blood,” Stiles suggests, waving his pencil in the air. “You know, maybe you caught a rabbit or something.”

“And did what?”

“Ate it,” I say like it’s obvious.

I laugh softly at the look of horror on Scott’s face. “Raw?!” He exclaims.

“No you stopped to bake it in a little werewolf oven- I don’t know, you’re the one that can’t remember anything!” I snort. Guys, this is not how you whisper.

“Mr. Stilinski,” Mr. Harris calls, gaining the attention of all three of us. “If that’s your idea of a hushed whisper, you might want to pull the headphones out every once in a while. I think you and Mr. McCall would benefit from a little distance, yes?”

“No,” Stiles says simply. Mr. Harris only answers with a stern face and points to Scott, then over at Harley at the front of the room. Without a word, Scott gathers his things and moves next to Harley while Stiles takes a seat next to someone at another table.

“Let me know if the separation anxiety gets to be too much,” Harris jokes, eliciting a sarcastic laugh from Stiles. 

“Hey, I think they found something!” Harley exclaims. We all rush to the windows to see two nurses roll a gurney with a man on it toward an ambulance. My eyes widen, exchanging a look with Stiles. What the hell did Scott do?

“That’s not a rabbit,” Scott whispers, fear lacing his tone as he looks at Stiles, but Stiles has his eyes glued to the man on the gurney.

Suddenly, the man shoots up into a sitting position and screams, causing me and everyone else to scream as well. Scott backs up, stopping only when he hits a table.

“This is good, this is good,” Stiles says, placing a hand on Scott’s shoulder. “He got up, he’s not dead.”

“True,” I chime, moving next to Stiles. “Dead guys can’t do that.”

The fear hasn’t left Scott’s face at all as he says, “Guys… _I_ did that.”

* * *

At lunch, Stiles and I are attempting to assure Scott he didn’t do anything. “But dreams aren’t memories,” Stiles is saying as we head toward our usual table with our lunch trays.

“Then it wasn’t a dream,” Scott says. “Something happened last night, and I can’t remember what.”

“What makes you so sure that Derek even has all the answers?” I demand. It comes out a little harsher than I mean it to, and I wince. Scott doesn't notice, but Stiles gives me a weird look.

“Because, during the full moon he wasn’t changed. He was in total control while I was running around in the middle of the night attacking some totally innocent guy.”

“You don’t know that,” Stiles says.

“I don’t _not_ know it.” Scott sighs. “I can’t go out with Allison. I have to cancel.”

“No, you’re not cancelling, okay? You can’t just cancel your entire life. We’ll figure it out.”

Just then, Lydia sets her tray next to Scott. “Figure what out?” She demands, sitting down.

“Just, uh, homework,” Scott stammers.

Lydia smiles, believing Scott, and turns to her lunch.

I lean toward Stiles. “Why is she sitting with us?” I whisper. He shrugs. Allison walks up to the table and sits next to Scott.

“Get up,” Jackson demands of one of his friends- Jake, I think his name is- as he walks up to the table.

“How come you never ask Danny to get up?” Jake asks.

“Because I don’t stare at his girlfriend’s coin slot,” Danny smirks.

I finger my necklace, trying to take my mind off of tomorrow.

“You okay?” Stiles asks me. I nod, taking a bite of my pasta.

“So I hear they’re saying it’s some type of animal attack,” Danny continues. “Probably a cougar.”

“I heard mountain lion,” Jackson says.

“A cougar is a mountain lion,” I snap, rolling my eyes. Stiles sends me another questioning look.

Lydia, playing the part of dumb girlfriend, turns to Jackson and asks, "Isn't it?"

“Who cares?" Jackson asks, annoyed. "The guy’s probably some homeless tweaker who’s gonna die anyway.”

“Actually, I just found out who it is,” Stiles chimes in, making everyone look at him. “Check it out. He turns his phone so we can all see the news. _“The sheriff’s department won't speculate on details of the incident, but confirmed the victim, Garrison Myers, did survive the attack. Myers was taken to a local hospital where he remains in critical condition."_

“I know this guy,” Scott says in shock.

“You do?” Allison asks.

“Yeah, when I used to take the bus back when I lived with my dad. He was the driver.”

I close my eyes, taking a deep breath, and keep playing with my locket.

“That face does not look like someone who is okay would be wearing,” Stiles tells me.

I open my eyes, turning to him. “Seriously, Stiles, I’m fine.”

“Can we talk please about something more fun, please?” Lydia asks. “Like… oh!” She perks up and turns to Allison and Scott. “Where are we going tomorrow night?” They look at her, confused. “You said you and Scott were hanging out tomorrow night, right?”

Allison’s face takes on an expression that clearly says she has no idea how to get out of this. “Um, we were thinking of what we were gonna do,” she says, gesturing between her and Scott.

“Well, I am not sitting home again watching lacrosse videos, so if the four of us are hanging out, we are doing something fun.”

“Hanging out?” Scott asks, looking at Allison. I bite my lip, trying to hold back my smile at Scott's discomfort. “Like, the four of us? Do you want to hang out, like us and them?”

“Yeah, I guess,” she answers, just as uncomfortable. “Sounds fun.”

“You know what else sounds fun?” Jackson asks. “Stabbing myself in the face with this fork.”

“How about bowling?” Lydia suggests. “You love to bowl.”

“Yeah, with actual competition.”

Allison leans forward. “How do you know we’re not actual competition?” She smirks. I mentally high five her. She turns to Scott. “You can bowl, right?”

“Sort of,” Scott answers. Stiles and I exchange a look, knowing full well that Scott cannot bowl.

“Is it sort of or yes?” Jackson demands.

“Yes. In fact, I’m a great bowler.” I mentally facepalm.

“Hey, Vivvy, you should come, too!” Lydia suddenly says. I stop mid-bite and whip my head over to her, eyes wide.

Once I realize she actually meant what she said, I swallow my pasta and say, “Oh, um, I don’t know. I’m not sure I want to fifth-wheel you guys.”

“Then we’ll find you a date,” she says definitively. “I know some cute lacrosse players.” Her eyes light up with excitement over who to set me up with.

I quickly shake my head. “Thanks, Lydia, but I’m not really interested.”

Lydia blinks, trying to figure out the meaning of my words before realization dawns on her face. “Oh, well in that case, I know some really cute cheerleaders.”

I smirk. This whole exchange is actually making me more calm. I exchange an amused look with Stiles, who knows exactly what I’m talking about. “I mean, you’re not wrong, but also not interested.”

“Then what exactly _are_ you interested in?” Jackson snaps.

The smirk falls from my face, and I retort, “People who don’t pry into my personal business.”

Of course, Jackson does just that and asks, “Chicks or dicks, Byrne?”

Allison scrunches up her nose, grimacing. “Classy, Jackson,” she says.

“Dude-” Stiles starts, glaring at Jackson, but I interrupt, sitting up straighter in my seat.

“Well, newsflash, bisexuals exist!” I say enthusiastically, a big fake smile on my face, announcing it like I’m a game show host. I even include the jazz hands.

Stiles, chokes on the gulp of water in his mouth, unable to hold in a laugh at my words. Scott keeps his head bowed, trying to fight smile that threatened to break out. Danny covers his small laugh with a cough. Allison makes no effort to hide the wide grin on her face as she reaches forward, giving me a high five.

Meanwhile, Lydia rolls her eyes, amused. “Okay, well, you have to go with _someone_.” She turns her gaze on Stiles. “Stiles. How do you feel about taking our darling Vivian bowling tomorrow?”

Completely caught off guard, Stiles chokes on his own food. Coughing, he flicks his eyes between Lydia and I, stammering out, “Oh, uh- yeah, sure. Sounds like a blast.”

“Lyds, I really don’t think-” I start but Lydia interrupts.

“Your birthday is tomorrow, right?” After my confirmation nod, she continues. “Well, then, this is how we’ll celebrate.”

I shake my head. “Lydia, I really don’t like to celebrate my birthday.”

She rolls her eyes. “Fine, whatever. But you’re still coming tomorrow night.”

Before I can protest any more, the bell rings, and everyone makes their way out of the cafeteria, the matter apparently settled.

* * *

“You’re a fucking terrible bowler,” Stiles says as him, Scott, and I walk down the stairs.

“I know,” Scott says. “I’m such an idiot.”

“God, it was like watching a fucking car wreck.” He froze and turned to me. “Sorry, Viv.”

I shrug. “It’s fine. Seriously, though, Scott, first it turned into a group date, then that phrase came in.”

“Hang out,” Scott confirms.

“You don’t ‘hang out’ with hot girls, okay?” Stiles says. “It’s like death. Once it’s hanging out, you might as well be her gay best friend. You and Danny can start hanging out.”

“How is this happening? I either killed a guy or I didn’t.”

“I don’t think Danny likes me very much,” Stiles muses.

“I ask Allison on a date and now we’re hanging out,” Scott continues.

“Am I not attractive to gay guys?”

I look between my friends like I am watching a tennis match. “Okay, you two need to calm down.”

“I make first line, and the team captain wants to _destroy_ me, and now- now I’m gonna be late for work.” Scott runs ahead of us and out the door.

“Wait, Scott!” Stiles yells. “You didn’t- am I attractive to gay guy-!” He cuts himself off and turns to me. “Viv, am I attractive to gay guys?” I pretend to think about it for a minute. “Vivian!” He exclaims in frustration.

I laugh. “Yes, Stiles, you are attractive to gay guys.”

“Thank you. By the way, I think you are totally attractive to gay girls.”

“Why, thank you.” I pause. “Look, you don’t have to come bowling tomorrow. I’m not even sure if _I_ am.”

“No, it sounds like fun,” he says. “We haven’t bowled in forever.”

“Yeah, but Lydia kind of forced herself and Jackson in, then she pulled _us_ in, and I totally get it if you don’t want to go.”

Stiles smirks. “Seriously, Viv, it’s fine.” He shrugs. “It’ll actually be kind of nice hanging out with you outside of school. We haven't done much of that since Scott was bit.”

I smile softly. “Very true.”

He hesitates, then says in a more serious tone, “About your birthday-”

I cut him off mid-sentence. “I don’t want to celebrate.”

“But you’ll be sixteen,” he protests. “That’s kind of a special birthday.”

“It was going to be special with Hazel. And my parents.” I blink, trying to stop the tears before they come. Looking for an out, I glance at the clock. “Well, as much fun as this conversation is, I have to get home. My brother’s meeting me at four.”

Stiles’s expression softens. “Do you want me to come with you? You know, to visit...”

I smile faintly. “Thanks, Stiles, but I think Griffin wants it to just be me and him. I’ll see you later.” I adjust my backpack on my shoulders and start heading home.

* * *

An hour later, my brother and I are at Beacon Hills Cemetery, standing in front of two headstones. The one on the right reads _Hazel Elizabeth Byrne, beloved daughter and sister, 1995-2008._ Below that was a quote Hazel used to say all the time: _It’s not about how you get knocked down; it’s about whether you rise up again._ The one on the left is the one for my parents, stating their names, their birth year, and their death year.

“Do you remember how Hazel used to blast her music every time she entered a room?” Griffin asks me.

I nod, smiling a little. “I still have ‘A Place In This World’ by Taylor Swift memorized.” My smile drops. “Where do you think she’d be right now?”

“High school, same as you,” Griffin answers. “Working toward a college with a good journalism program. She always wanted to be a journalist. Was determined to help people by giving them the truth.” He pauses. “We don’t talk about them a lot.”

“It’s hard,” I say. “Sometimes I hear the TV downstairs and think about how Dad would always watch a John Wayne movie at eleven o’clock at night, or how Mom would put on the Morning Show every Sunday, with Kathie Lee and Hoda. I can smell Dad’s pancakes.” Tears well up in my eyes. “Griffin, I really miss them.”

He puts an arm around my shoulders. “I know, kiddo. You know what they would say right now? They would ask us why we’re crying and missing them so much.”

“I know they would want us to move on,” I say.

“They’re in a better place now, Blackbird. They would want us to be happy.”

I look up at him in surprise. “You called me Blackbird.”

“Yeah,” he says hesitantly. “Sorry- it’s just being here- I know Mom used to call you that, and- I don’t know, it just came out.”

“Griffin, it’s okay,” I say.

“Yeah?”

“Yeah. It’s nice to hear it again, even if it’s not from Mom.” I pause. “You know, if you want to keep calling me that, I wouldn’t mind.” When I was kid, my mom and I used to listen to the Beatles all the time, and my favorite song was ‘Blackbird Fly.’ And since I loved to sing, Mom started calling me Blackbird, and it just sort of stuck.

He doesn’t say anything to that, but I see a ghost of a smile across his face, and we go back to staring at the headstones and wishing our family were here.

“Hey, about your birthday tomorrow-” Griffin starts, but I groan.

“Why does everyone want me to celebrate my birthday?” I grumble. “You, Lydia, Stiles- what’s so great about tomorrow?”

He holds up his free hand in surrender. “I’m sorry, I didn’t mean to make you upset, but it’s been a few years, and I thought maybe you might be ready.”

“Well, I’m not,” I snap. “It’s not just _my_ birthday tomorrow- it was supposed to be Hazel’s, too, you know.”

“I know, it’s just-”

I cut him off by pulling away. “Can we go home now? I have a lot of homework, and your shift starts soon.”

Griffin nods. “Yeah. I’ll drop you off on the way to the station.”

With that, we head off toward Griffin’s car.

* * *

Later that night, Stiles drives Scott and I to the school bus yard. According to Derek, Scott just needs to go back to the bus to remember what happened to the driver. Stiles and I get out of the Jeep to follow Scott. “Hey, no, just me,” Scott protests. “Someone needs to keep watch.”

“How come we’re always the people keeping watch?” Stiles asks.

“Because there’s only three of us.” Scott says as he pulls Stiles off the fence he was climbing.

Stiles huffs. “Okay, why is it starting to feel like you’re Batman and I’m Robin? I don’t want to be Robin all the time.”

“Nobody’s Batman and Robin any of the time,” Scott says, looking at Stiles like he’s crazy.

“Not even some of the time?” Stiles asks, slightly saddened.

“Just stay here,” Scott insists. “Both of you.”

“Oh, my god, fine!”

Stiles and I walk back to the Jeep as Scott hops the fence. As Stiles and I settle into our seats, I glance over at him. “You know, I don’t think you and Scott are Batman and Robin.”

“Really?” Stiles asks in surprise. “Why?”

“Well, for one, I’m not included in that scenario. Two, I think we’re more like Luke, Leia, and Han Solo.” Stiles’s eyes light up at the analogy. “Scott is obviously Luke Skywalker- the chosen one. I’m badass Princess Leia, and you’re Han Solo.”

Stiles grins. “That is a wonderful analogy.” He pauses. “You know I’m only going to call you Leia from now on, right?”

I laugh. “Only if I can call you Han.”

“Deal,” Stiles says immediately, and holds out a hand to shake on it, both of us laughing as we do.

Suddenly, we spot a light shining near the bus. I look closer and see it’s a deputy. Stiles starts honking the horn trying to get Scott’s attention. We are successful as we see Scott parkour over the fence and hop in the backseat of the Jeep. As soon as Scott is in, Stiles backs the Jeep down the road and drives as fast as he can away from the school.

“Did it work?” I ask Scott, who is turned around in the seat to make sure the deputy didn’t spot us. “Did you remember?”

“Yeah, I was there last night,” Scott said, facing forward again. “And the blood- a lot of it was mine.”

“So you did attack him?” Stiles asks.

“No. I saw glowing eyes on the bus, but they weren’t mine. It was Derek.”

Stiles glances at him for a second. “What about the driver?”

“I think I was actually trying to protect him.”

“Wait a sec,” I say, “why would Derek help you remember that _he_ attacked the bus driver?”

“That’s what I don't get,” Scott says.

“It’s got to be a pack thing,” Stiles says.

“What do you mean?”

“Like an initiation. You do the kill together.”

“Like, the pack that slays together stays together?” I ask. 

“Because ripping someone’s throat out is a real bonding experience?” Scott questions, incredulous.

“Yeah, but you didn’t do it,” Stiles says. “Which means you’re not a killer. And it also means that-”

Scott smiles. “I can go out with Allison.”

“I was gonna say it means you won’t kill me and Vivian.”

“Oh, yeah. That too.”

* * *

The second I open my locker, bright pink balloons float out at my face. I immediately attempt to shove them back in, but they keep floating out around me. I sigh.

“Wow,” a voice behind me says, and I turn to see Stiles.

“Please don’t say anything,” I grumble.

He holds up his hands in surrender, fighting a smile. “I’m not.” He takes in the sight of my locker, which I now notice is decorated with yellow streamers inside. “Wow, I wish I had sunglasses, because that is _bright_.”

I grab a fallen streamer and throw it at him. “Come on,” he says through a small laugh. He picks up something from the ground and holds it out for me. “I think you dropped this.”

I take it and realize it is an envelope with my name written in a pretty cursive. I groan, ripping it open and unfolding the card. “‘ _Happy 16, Vivvy!_ ’” I read aloud. “‘ _You mean the world to us and we hope you have a great day. Love, Allison and Lydia_.’” I snap the card shut, stuffing it into my locker with a huff.

“That was nice of them,” Stiles tries.

I sigh. “Yeah it was.” I turn toward him. “Look, can you please not mention my birthday to anyone else here? I just don’t want to think about it.”

He nods. “Yeah, of course.”

“Thanks.” I look back at my locker, balloons still sticking out of it. “How did she even know it’s my birthday?” I wonder.

Stiles winces. “That might have been me. She asked me last week, and I told her.” He sees the look on my face, and says, “Sorry.”

I shake my head. “No, it’s okay. I knew I would have to face this day eventually.” I slam my locker door closed, trying to shut out any sign of my birthday, but one bright balloon gets stuck floating on the outside. I close my eyes and sigh, shouldering my bag. The warning bell rings, and Stiles and I start walking toward our first class.

“You don’t want to celebrate at all?” Stiles asks.

I shake my head, saying simply, “It won’t feel the same without Hazel.” We turn the corner into the English classroom, and Stiles drops the subject.

* * *

Lydia and I are at Allison’s house that night, helping her pick an outfit for her date with Scott. Allison holds a shirt up to us while we sit on the bed. “Mm, pass,” Lydia says. Allison puts the shirt back and holds out another one. “Pass.” Finally, she gets up and walks to the closet, and I follow.

Lydia rifles through Allison’s closet saying pass to every top she sees. “Pass. Pass. Uh, pass on all of it,” Lydia says. “Allison, respect for your taste is, uh, dwindling by second.”

I step up to the closet and pull out a sequined black top. “How about this?”

Lydia examines it. “Hmm. Yes.”

The door opens and Allison’s father walks in. I remember this is the hunter out to kill my friend, and I tense without meaning to. “Dad, hello,” Allison says.

“Right,” Mr. Argent says. “I’m sorry, I completely forgot to knock.”

“Hi, Mr. Argent,” Lydia says, flopping onto the bed.

I hold up a hand in a half-wave. “Hi,” I say quietly.

“Dad, do you need something?” Allison asks.

“I wanted to tell you that you’ll be staying in tonight,” Mr. Argent says.

“What? I’m going out with my friends tonight.”

“Not when some animal out there is attacking people.”

“Dad, Dad, I’m uh-”

“It’s out of my hands,” Mr. Argent protests. “There’s a curfew, no one’s allowed out past nine thirty p.m.” Allison tosses her shirt on the bed, obviously annoyed. “Hey, no more arguing.” With that, he leaves the room, shutting the door behind him.

“Someone’s daddy's little girl,” Lydia teases.

“Sometimes,” Allison says. “But not tonight.” Allison places a beanie on her head and opens her bedroom window.

As she starts climbing out of it, I share a look of confusion with Lydia. “Allison, what the hell are you doing?” I ask. Allison walks along the roof and flips to the ground, giving me a mini heart attack.

“Eight years of gymnastics,” she whisper-yells up to me and Lydia. “Are you guys coming?”

“We’ll take the stairs,” Lydia answers, and we head downstairs, meeting Allison at Lydia’s car to get to the group date/hang out fiasco.

* * *

At the bowling alley, the two couples gravitate toward each other, leaving Stiles and I behind as we go through the doors. At the sight of the large amount of people milling about the alley, I cross my arms in front of my chest, trying to draw myself in more. I know Griffin wants me to be more social, and while I _am_ comfortable around my friends, I just wasn’t expecting the building to be so crowded.

“I do not want to be here,” I say bluntly. “How mad do you think they’ll be if we just go home and watch _Star Wars_?”

“Ah, come on Leia, this is nice,” Stiles smiles. “We finally get to hang out for, like, the first fucking time since school started, and, hey, it’s-” Knowing what he is about to say, I whip my head around to glare at him, and he stammers out, “Friday. It-it’s Friday. That’s what I was going to say the whole time. Aren’t you glad it’s Friday?”

I sigh, trying to cheer myself up a little, and remind myself my parents and sister wouldn’t want me wallowing, especially today. Here I am with my friends, about to potentially have a good time, and that isn’t something to be sad about. I nod, smiling slightly. “Yeah. Let’s go, Han.”

* * *

Pretty soon, we’re all seated at our own lane taking turns shooting the ball toward the pins. I allow myself to zone in and out, only really paying attention when it’s my turn. However I zone back in when Jackson says, “You’re up, McCall.”

We all turn to Scott, who looks stressed out. Allison nudges his side encouragingly. “You can do it, Scott.”

He rubs his knees, stands, and grabs his ball from the rack. He heads toward the lane, nervously tapping the ball before shooting the ball toward the pins. He slips a little as the ball leaves his hands, and goes straight into the gutter.

I wince in sympathy as Jackson bursts into laughter.

“Jackson,” Allison says, glaring at him. “Mind shutting up?”

Still laughing, Jackson says, “I’m sorry. I’m sorry- I’m just flashing back to the words ‘I’m a great bowler.’”

Stiles and I exchange an eye roll.

“Maybe he just needs a little warm-up,” Allison suggests.

Jackson scoffs, “Yeah, maybe he just needs the kiddy bumpers,” which elicits a laugh from Lydia as well.

Tossing another glare towards the asshole, Allison says to Scott, “Just- just aim for the middle.”

“How about you aim for anything except for the gutter?” Jackson asks.

“How about _you_ shut up and let him focus,” I snap, narrowing my eyes.

Allison throws me a grateful look and turns back to Jackson, officially annoyed with him. “Thank you, Viv. Let him concentrate, Jackson.”

“Come on, Scotty, you can do this,” Stiles chimes as Scott gets back into position.

Scott still slips letting go of the ball, and we all watch in anticipation as the ball makes its way down the lane. It's almost to the pins and… falls into the gutter.

“Ohh!” Jackson shouts, and laughs. Embarrassed, Scott comes and sits back down. “Great job McCall. Man, you are a pro.”

Stiles pats him on the shoulder. “It’s alright, man.”

“Don’t worry,” Allison says. “We only just started.”

“Viv, it’s your turn,” Lydia smiles.

I get up and grab my ball from the rack, then move into position. “You got it, Vivvy!” Stiles calls encouragingly.

I take a breath, bring my arm back, and swing the ball forward, letting go only when I know it’s at the right angle. The ball makes its way quickly down the lane and knocks every pin down.

“Yes,” I whisper to myself, smiling as I go back and sit next to Stiles, who gives me a big high-five.

“That was awesome,” Allison says. “I mean, that was literally perfect form.”

“Thanks,” I blush. “My brother used to take my sister and I bowling all the time.”

“Oh, you have a sister?” Lydia asks, turning to face me. “Does she go to school with us, too?”

I hesitate, and Stiles squeezes my hand. “No, she- she doesn’t. Hazel, um- Hazel and our parents died about three years ago.”

The group went silent after that. “I’m sorry,” Lydia says after a moment. “I had no idea-”

I shake my head quickly. “No, no, it’s okay. I just- I don’t really talk about it.”

“What happened?” Allison asks, then quickly adds, “If you don’t mind me asking.”

“Car accident,” I answer, my nose beginning to tingle. “A drunk driver ran a red light. My dad and sister died on impact, and my mom later at the hospital.”

“Were you in the car?” Jackson asks.

“Hey, man-” Stiles starts with a glare toward Jackson, but I interrupt him, saying, “Yes, I was.”

I pat my knees, breathing in sharply. “You know what, I’m going to go grab a snack. I’ll be back in a few minutes." With that, I stand and walk as quickly as I can to the snack bar.

* * *

I don’t make it to the snack bar before the tears start falling and blur my vision. I barely feel a pair of hands grab me and sit me back down in a seat. I wipe the tears out of my eyes, and focus on how Stiles is sitting across from me, his elbows resting on his knees and hands folded in front of him.

“Sorry,” I manage to say. “I feel like I kind of ruined the vibe over there.”

“You didn’t ruin anything,” Stiles assures me. There’s a minute of silence, then he asks, “Are you okay?”

I sniff. “Yeah, I’m fine.”

He shifts a little in his seat. “You don’t have to be.”

I send him a slightly deadpan look. “It’ll be three years in March, Stiles. I think I have to at least start working on being okay.”

“You will be,” he says definitively.

He looks me in the eye as he says this, and somehow I know that he’s telling the truth. It won’t happen overnight, but I know that eventually, I will be okay.

He taps my knee. “Hey, what do you say we get out of here? We’ll go to the diner, get some food. Then go home, and maybe watch some _Star Wars_?” My eyes brighten at the mention of _Star Wars_ , and Stiles laughs a little.

“That sounds good,” I smile.

“Come on, we have to go tell the group.” He stands, offering me a hand up. I take it, stand, and we make our way back to the group.

As we approach the group, they all stop talking and look up at us. “Hey, uh, this was fun, guys, but we’re gonna head out,” I say, managing a smile.

“If this is about earlier,” Allison started, “we didn’t mean to pry-”

I silence her with a quick shake of my head. “No, no, it wasn’t you guys. I just need to get home, but I’ll talk to you guys later.”

Stiles waves to everyone as we walk toward the exit.

* * *

Thirty minutes later, we are seated across from each other in a booth at Granny’s Diner, cheeseburgers, fries, and chocolate shakes in front of us.

“Thanks for coming tonight,” I say, swallowing a fry.

“Hey, I had fun,” Stiles says, smiling a little.

I move my gaze to my food. “Sorry about the freakout.”

“Don’t apologize,” he says firmly. “What happened to your family, it- it’s gonna take some time to get over.”

Tears well in my eyes again, and I furiously swipe at them before they fall. “This is why I didn’t want to do anything today. Yeah, it’s my birthday, but it’s also Hazel’s. We’ve been planning our Sweet Sixteen for half our lives. We were going to have a slumber party with our friends, have a _High School Musical_ marathon, and eat more pizza than our stomachs could hold. It doesn’t feel right celebrating without her.”

After a moment of silence between us, Stiles speaks up. “After my mom died, it was just a constant feeling of emptiness,” he says, his eyes on his burger. “That feeling hit me the worst when I realized that everything I used to do with her, I couldn’t do anymore. She couldn’t take me to baseball practice, or help me with my homework. We couldn’t have dinner together, or watch movies together. And that hurt. A lot. But I got through it.”

“How?” My voice cracks as I ask the question.

“I had my dad. And I had Scott.” He hesitates. “And I had you,” he adds, moving his eyes to mine. “I had you, and your family. I got through it. You all helped me, and now it’s our turn to help you.”

I shake my head slightly. “What?”

“Viv, you have a lot of people who care about you. You have Griffin, and my dad. And now you have Scott, and Allison, and Lydia. And you have me.” His lips quirk up in a smile. “You’ll always have me, Leia.”

I give a small smile at the nickname. “Thanks, Han.”

After that, I have a pretty good night. Stiles and I talk and laugh, and I feel better than I have in a long time. And when I come back from the bathroom, and find a cupcake with a single candle in it, I don’t protest. Instead, I listen to Stiles sing ‘Happy Birthday’, and while I miss Hazel, and my parents, and wish that they are here with me, it doesn’t hurt as much as it did this morning.

I know that I have my brother, and Noah, and my new friends here. And I know that I _definitely_ have Stiles. And whatever happens next, whether it be werewolf related or just life in general, I know I’ll always have Stiles. And as I blow out the candle, I make a wish.

Stiles cheers as the flame goes out. “So, what did you wish for?”

I shoot him an amused look. “You know I’m not supposed to answer that.”

Stiles scoffs, smiling. “Oh, come on, just tell me.”

“No, if I tell you, it won’t come true,” I say through a laugh. “I’m not going to risk that.”

Stiles sighs, faking frustration, and holding his hands up in surrender. “Fine, whatever.” When we finish the cupcake, he says, “I’ll drive you home.”

As Stiles drives toward my apartment, my smile never leaves my face.

You guys didn’t think I would tell you what I wished for, did you? I’m not going to, but I hope to God it comes true.

* * *

“Thanks for tonight,” I say as Stiles and I walk down the hall toward my apartment. “I had a lot of fun.”

“Yeah, me too,” Stiles says. “You know, it doesn’t have to end.”

I raise my eyebrows. “ _Star Wars_?” I ask as we reach the door.

Before we can say anything else, the door opens and Griffin walks out. “Oh, hey, guys. You have a good time bowling?”

“Yeah,” I say. “We were just going to start a _Star Wars_ marathon.” Then I notice that Griffin is dressed in his deputy’s uniform. “Wait, where are you going?”

“Ah, well, I probably shouldn’t be telling you guys,” Griffin says hesitantly. Stiles and I exchange a deadpan look and face back to my brother. He sighs. “You guys are just going to find out anyway. You know the bus driver, Garrison Myers, from the attack the other night?” At our nods, Griffin continues. “Well, Stiles, the hospital called your dad. Myers just died.”

* * *

“How is this the second time within, like, two weeks that we are breaking into Scott’s house?” I ask, both of us climbing onto the roof.

“Last time we didn’t succeed,” Stiles points out. Minor details. Finally, he manages to open the window. We climb through the window and land on Scott’s bed. Suddenly, the door opens, and Ms. McCall is running up to us, brandishing a baseball bat.

All three of us start screaming as Stiles grabs me and pulls me behind him, both of us scrambling back. “Stiles, Vivian what the hell are you two _doing_ here?” Ms. McCall demands as we try to calm down.

“What are _we_ doing?” Stiles asks.

“Do either of you actually play baseball?” I ask when I see the baseball bat Ms. McCall is holding.

Before she can answer, the light turns on and Scott walks into the room. “Can you please tell your friends to use the front door?” She asks Scott.

“But we lock the front door,” Scott says, not seeing the issue. “They wouldn’t be able to get in.”

“Yeah, exactly.” She looks at each of us. “And, by the way, do any of you care that there’s a police-enforced curfew?”

“No,” Scott, Stiles, and I say in unison.

“No,” she repeats. “Alright then. Well, you know what? That’s about enough parenting for me for one night, so good night.” Ms. McCall tosses the baseball bat on the bed and leaves the room.

“What?” Scott asks as he pulls up his chair.

“My brother left for the hospital fifteen minutes ago to meet with Stiles’s dad,” I start. “It’s the bus driver.”

“They said he succumbed to his wounds,” Stiles continues.

“Succumbed?” Scott questions.

“Do you not know what ‘succumbed’ means?” I ask. At the headshake Scott gives me that he in fact does _not_ know what ‘succumbed’ means, I continue talking. “Scott, he’s dead."


	4. Magic Bullet

“If Derek isn’t the alpha, if he’s not the one that bit you, then who did?” Stiles whispers to Scott. My attention is pulled away from the teacher handing out our tests, and I focus on my friends.

Last night, Scott went to Derek to confront him about the bus driver, but Derek told Scott he wasn’t the one who killed him. Derek also wasn’t the one who bit Scott- it was an alpha werewolf, except Derek doesn’t know who the alpha is.

“I don’t know,” Scott shrugs.

“Did the alpha kill the bus driver?”

“I don’t know.”

Stiles sits back for a minute, but leans forward again. “Does Allison’s dad know about the alpha?”

“I don’t know!” Scott exclaims, turning around to glare at Stiles. It came out louder than he meant it to, as most of the class turns to look at him.

The teacher places our tests on our desks as she passes. I smile as I look at my grade, an ‘A’. “Dude, you need to study more,” Stiles says, looking at Scott’s grade, a ‘D-‘. Annoyed, Scott shoves his paper onto his desk. “That was a joke.”

“Scott, it’s just one test,” I reassure him. “You’ll make it up. Do you want help studying?”

“No,” he says. “I’m studying with Allison after school today.”

“That’s my boy,” Stiles says.

“We’re just studying.”

“Uh, no, you’re not.”

I furrow my eyebrows. “They’re not?” I question.

“Not if I’m forced to live vicariously through him,” Stiles defends. I smirk. He turns back to Scott. “If you go to her house today and squander that colossal opportunity, I swear to God I’ll have you de-balled.”

I quickly turn back to face the front. “And I did not need to know that.”

“Okay,” Scott says. “Just... stop with the questions, man.”

“Done. No more questions. No more talk about the alpha or Derek. Especially Derek... who still scares me.”

* * *

“Scott’s coming over?” Lydia asks as her, Allison, and I walk up the stairs. “Tonight?”

“We’re just studying together,” Allison says.

“Just studying never ends with just studying. It’s like getting into a hot tub- somebody eventually cops a feel.”

“Well, so what are you saying?”

“I’m just saying, you know, make sure he covers up.” Allison looks away, confused, and Lydia laughs. “Hello, Snow White! Do it with him with a condom.”

“Can we maybe not talk about this?” I ask, wincing. “I just got done talking to Scott and Stiles about this.”

“Are you kidding? After one date?” Allison scoffs.

“Don’t be a total prude,” Lydia says. “Give him a little taste.”

“Well, I- I mean, how much is ‘a little taste’?”

I look at her with a small smile. “You really do like him, don’t you?”

“Well, he’s just different. When I first moved here, I had a plan. No boyfriends ‘til college. I just move too much. But...” Allison starts to smile. “Then I met him, and... he was different.” She laughs a little. “I don’t know. I can’t explain it.”

I grin. They really are so cute.

“I can,” Lydia says. “It’s your brain flooding with phenylethylamine.”

Allison laughs. “What?”

“It means you’re happy,” I say, placing a hand on her shoulder.

“I’ll tell you what to do,” Lydia says. “When’s he coming over?”

“Right after school,” Allison says.

Just then, the bell rings. “I’ve got to get to class,” I say, tightening my grip on my books. “I’ll talk to you guys later.” They wave goodbye to me as I walk quickly down the hallway.

* * *

Stiles and I hop into his Jeep after school. He was giving me a ride home. He starts driving as I fiddle with the radio. Suddenly, someone jumps in front of the car. “Stiles, stop!” I yelp.

He slams on the brakes, an arm shooting across my stomach to keep me from lurching forward. “Oh, my God,” he says. And we almost killed Derek. Man, this dude is everywhere. “You’ve got to be fucking kidding me, this guy is everywhere.”

Derek collapses just as Scott runs up to us. “What the hell?” Scott asks as Stiles and I get out of the car. Scott kneels next to Derek. “What are you doing here?”

“I was shot,” Derek says, his head lolling forward.

“He’s not looking so good, dude,” Stiles says. He’s right. Derek is extremely pale, and he’s been bleeding from the looks of his hand.

“Why aren’t you healing?” I ask, joining Scott on the ground.

“I can’t,” Derek says. “It was- it was a different kind of bullet.”

“A silver bullet?” I try to keep the excitement out of my voice.

“No, you idiot.”

“Wait, wait,” Scott says, something occurring to him. “That’s what she meant when she said you had forty-eight hours.”

“What? Who- who said forty-eight hours?”

“The one who shot you.”

“I’m sorry, Scott, you were there when Derek was shot?” I demand.

Before anyone can respond, Derek groans, his eyes shifting between glowing blue and their normal brown. “What are you doing?” Scott asks, freaking out. “Stop that!”

All around us, car horns are beeping. Hold your fucking horses, people. “That’s what I’m trying to tell you, I can’t!”

“Derek, get up!” Scott lifts Derek to his feet. “I’m gonna put him in your car,” he says to Stiles, already moving toward the Jeep. I open the passenger side door and Scott sits Derek there.

“I need you to find out what kind of bullet they used,” Derek says as the door closes.

“How the hell am I supposed to do that?”

“‘Cause she’s an Argent; she’s with them.”

“Why should I help you?”

“Because you need me.” Yeah, that seems like a pretty good reason.

“Fine, I’ll try,” Scott sighs. Stiles and I hop back into the Jeep, him in the driver’s seat, me in the back. “Get him out of here,” he says to us.

“I hate you for this so much,” Stiles says, driving away.

* * *

Derek is getting worse by the second. “Nothing?” I ask from the back seat as Stiles sighs in frustration, tossing his phone down. He had texted Scott to see if he found the bullet.

“Nothing.” He turns to Derek. “Hey, try not to bleed out on my seats, okay? We’re almost there.”

“Almost where?” Derek groans.

“Your house,” I say. It seemed kind of obvious.

“What?” Derek whips his head up. “No, you can’t take me there.”

“We can’t take you to your own house?” Stiles demands.

“Not when I can’t protect myself.”

“Alright.” Stiles quickly pulls over. “What happens if Scott doesn’t find your little magic bullet? Hm? Are you dying?”

“Not yet. I have a last resort.”

“What do you mean?” Stiles exclaims. “What last resort?”

“Why does that sound more terrifying than death?” I ask. Derek rolls up his sleeve, revealing a bloody gunshot wound. I wince, immediately looking away. “Oh my fucking God, what the hell is that?”

“Oh, is that contagious?” Stiles groans. “You know what, you should probably just get out.”

“Start the car,” Derek says simply. “Now.”

“Yeah, I don’t think you should be barking orders with the way you look, okay? In fact, I think if I wanted to, I could probably drag your little werewolf ass out into the middle of the road and leave you for dead.”

“Start the car, or I’m gonna rip your throat out... with my teeth.”

“Well, how very horror movie-esque of you,” I say. “Still able to frighten me to the very core, I see.”

Without a word, Stiles starts his car, and pulls away from the curb.

* * *

“What am we supposed to do with him?” I ask Scott. Stiles and I had decided to call him to see what was taking so long with finding the bullet.

 _“Take him somewhere, anywhere,”_ Scott whispers.

“Tell Scott he’s starting to smell,” Stiles chimes. I roll my eyes.

“Stiles says he’s starting to smell.”

 _“Like what?”_ Scott asks.

“Like death!” Stiles adds.

_“Okay, take him to the animal clinic.”_

“What about your boss?” I ask.

_“He’s gone by now. There’s a spare key in the box behind the dumpster.”_

I sigh, passing my phone to Derek. “Okay, so it is really ironic where Scott’s telling us to take you.” I turn to Stiles, smiling. “The animal clinic.” Stiles grins.

“Did you find it?” Derek asks Scott. “Look, if you don’t find it, then I’m dead, alright?” He pauses. “Then think about this. The alpha called you out against your will. He’s gonna do it again. Next time you either kill with him, or you get killed. So if you wanna stay alive, then you need me. Find the bullet.” Derek hangs up and hands the phone back to me.

* * *

Derek, Stiles, and I finally get to the clinic when Stiles’s phone beeps. Derek collapses on the ground as I hear dogs bark from inside. “Does northern blue monkshood mean anything to you?” Stiles asks.

“It’s a rare form of wolfsbane,” Derek says. “He has to bring me the bullet.”

“Why?” I ask. “We know what it is, can’t we just make a cure now that we know?”

“We need the bullet to make the cure. I’m gonna die without it.”

* * *

Stiles pushes open the doors to the back room as I help Derek walk to the table. He tosses his shirt to the side and lays his arm out on the table. It looks like it got worse. The veins surrounding it are all black and it doesn’t seem like it has stopped bleeding.

“You know that really doesn’t look like anything some echinacea and a good night of sleep couldn’t take care of,” Stiles says. I toss him a look.

“When the infection reaches my heart, it’ll kill me,” Derek says, breathing heavily. He turns and starts searching through the cabinets.

“Positivity just isn’t in your vocabulary, is it?”

“If he doesn’t get here with the bullet in time... last resort.”

“Yeah, every time you say ‘last resort’, it sounds even more terrifying,” I say. “What exactly is it?”

Derek holds up a saw. “You’re gonna cut off my arm.”

I freeze. “We’re going to what?”

Derek passes the saw to Stiles, who presses a button, turning it on. He immediately drops it. “Oh my god.” Derek starts wrapping a piece of rubber around his arm. “What if you bleed to death?”

“It’ll heal if it works,” Derek says, the rubber in his mouth.

“Ugh. Look, I don’t know if I can do this.”

“Why not?”

“Well, because of the cutting through the flesh, the daring of the bone, and especially the blood!”

“You faint at the sight of blood?” Derek demands, aggravated.

“No, but I might at the sight of a chopped off arm!”

“Fine, how about this? Either you cut off my arm, or I’m gonna cut off your head.”

“Okay, you know what, I’m so not buying your threats any-” Stiles is cut off by Derek grabbing his shirt and yanking him forward.

“Oh, my God, I’ll do it!” I exclaim.

“You will?” Derek and Stiles ask in unison, both obviously shocked.

“Yeah,” I shrug. “I’ll just get therapy later. Give me the saw.”

Before Derek can, however, he gags. “What?” Stiles asks. “What are you doing?” Derek leans over and vomits what looks like black blood all over the floor, which makes me start to gag. “Holy god what the hell is that?”

I shake my head, trying not to look at the puddle of blood on the ground. “Nope. Nope, I did not sign up for this.”

“It’s my body,” Derek moans, “trying to heal itself.”

“Well, it’s doing a really shitty job!” I cry.

Derek looks at me. “Now. You gotta do it now.”

“Yeah, okay.”

“Viv, I don’t think you should do this,” Stiles says.

“I’ve got this. I built a treehouse with Dad and Hazel when I was nine. I think I remember how to use a hand-saw.” I take a deep breath, pressing the on button a few times, and try to psych myself up. “Okay. Okay, I can do this.” I turn to Derek. “I’m sorry for any screaming that may ensue.” I begin to lower the saw onto his arm, and Stiles turns away. “Here we go!”

“Viv! Stiles!” Scott calls.

“Scott?” Stiles asks.

As Scott runs into the room, and looks at the scene in front of him: me with a saw against Derek’s arm, blood on the floor, and Stiles in full panic mode. “What the hell are you doing?” He shouts.

I immediately drop the saw as Stiles laughs in relief. “Oh, you just prevented a lifetime of nightmares,” I say.

“Did you get it?” Derek asks.

Scott pulls a bullet out of his pocket. “What are you going to do with it?” Stiles asks as Derek stares at it.

“I’m gonna...” Derek starts wobbling and collapses, the bullet flying out of his hand and into the heating vent.

“No,” Scott says. “No, no, no, no.” He falls to the ground and attempts to get the bullet, but he can’t reach it.

Meanwhile, Stiles and I rush to Derek and try to wake him up. “Derek,” Stiles says, slapping his face a little. “Derek, come on, wake up.” I shake his shoulders but it’s not working. “Scott, what the hell are we gonna do?”

“I don’t know!” Scott exclaims, still trying to get the bullet. “I can’t reach it.”

“Guys, he’s not waking up,” I say. “I think he’s dying. Yeah, _now_ would be a good time to go to the hospital. I think he’s dead!”

“Just hold on!” Stiles and I continue to shake Derek. “I got it!”

“Please don’t kill me for this,” Stiles says, pulling his fist back. Knowing what he is about to do, I jump out of the way. Stiles’s fist connects with Derek’s face, and he falls back, screaming and shaking his fist. “Ow! God!”

Good thing that actually worked. “Give me...” Derek mutters, now awake. Scott hands him the bullet and helps him stand. He bites the bullet open and pours the powder onto the table.

“Are you going to snort bullet powder?” I blurt. Derek ignores me and lights the powder on fire, sending sparks into the air. “Oh, my god!” I jump back in surprise.

He takes the powder and rubs it on the wound, which causes him to scream in pain. Without thinking, I fumble for something to hold on to, and Stiles takes my hand, pulling me back as Derek collapses on the floor. Slowly, the wound begins to heal, blue smoke coming out of his arm.

“That... was... awesome!” Stiles exclaims pumping a fist. Scott and I look at him like he’s crazy. “Yes!”

“Are you okay?” Scott asks Derek as he sits up.

“Well, except for the agonizing pain,” Derek answers.

“I’m guessing the ability to use sarcasm is a good sign of health,” Stiles says. Suddenly, I realize he and I are still holding hands. Reddening, I pull away.

“Okay, we saved your life,” Scott says, “which means you’re going to leave us alone. You got that? And if you don’t, I’m gonna go back to Allison’s dad, and I’m gonna tell him everything-”

“You’re gonna trust them?” Derek demands, interrupting him. “You think they can help you?”

“Well, why not? They’re a lot fucking nicer than you are.”

“I can show you exactly how nice they are.”

Scott looks at him in confusion. “What do you mean?”

Without a word, he motions for Scott to follow him. Throwing a perplexed look our way, Scott follows him out the door.

* * *

On the way home, it’s silent except for the radio. “Would you have really done that?” Stiles asks.

I furrow my eyebrows. “Done... what, exactly?”

“Cut off Derek’s arm. Why did you volunteer yourself for something like that?”

“Because it- it was the right thing to do,” I say simply. “He was dying, there was something that could potentially save his life, and- I don’t know, it just sort of seemed like a no brainer to me.” Stiles just stares at me, smiling softly. “What? What are you looking at?”

“You will never cease to amaze me, Vivvy,” he says.

I laugh. “Oh, stop.”

“It’s true! I could never have cut off someone else’s arm, and there you were, willing to scar yourself for life for someone that scares the fuck out of both of us. I mean, that’s incredibly brave.”

“Yeah, well, I have experience with being scarred for life, so... just add it to the list,” I smile, attempting to joke.

His eyes widen in realization that I’m talking about the accident. “Sorry for bringing it up.”

“No, no, it’s fine. I’m fine.”

He doesn’t look convinced. “You’re sure?”

I roll my eyes, smiling. “I’m fine. I promise.” Finally, we arrive at my apartment building. “Thanks for driving me home,” I say as Stiles pulls up to the curb.

“No problem,” Stiles says.

I grab my backpack and open the car door, hopping out. I close the door, and I look back at Stiles. “Did you mean it?” I ask.

“Mean what?”

“Earlier, um-” I start fidgeting with my hands, suddenly embarrassed. “Uh, you said I was brave. Did you mean that?”

Stiles smiles. “Always, Princess Leia.”

I smile back. “Thanks, Han Solo. I’ll see you tomorrow.”

“Bye.”

I run into the building so Stiles can’t see the giant grin on my face.


	5. The Tell

I sift through the DVDs on the rack, trying to find _The Da Vinci Code_. It is one of mine and Griffin’s favorites, and he wants it for movie night. Suddenly, the bell on the door jangles. I look up to see Jackson looking around. I close my eyes. Great. Just what I needed, to see this asshole. I finally spot _The Da Vinci Code_ on the shelf behind me and grab it.

“Can somebody help me find _The Notebook_?” Jackson calls. He turns and spots me. “Hey,” he says to me. I half-wave in response. He glances at the DVD in my hand, raising an eyebrow. “ _The Da Vinci Code_?”

I nod. “It’s one of my favorites. My brother wanted it for movie night.”

Jackson shakes his head in disbelief. “How do you like that movie?”

I scoff. “Tom Hanks is one of the greatest actors,” I defend. “What's so great about _The Notebook_?”

Jackson sighs, exasperated. “It was Lydia’s idea.”

I smirk. “I’m sure.”

He turns away with a huff. “Hello!” He calls, walking further into the store. No one answers. “Hello? Is anybody working here?” It’s silent except for the broken light buzzing on the ceiling. Curious, I start walking behind Jackson.

The phone starts ringing, but nobody answers. “You’ve got to be kidding me,” Jackson sighs. I look around the corner and see a pair of feet sticking out of the aisle.

“Hey,” I say, tapping Jackson on the shoulder. He turns to see what I am looking at and we start walking toward the feet. _Please be just unconscious, please be just unconscious._ We round the corner and I let out a strangled gasp, quickly covering my mouth. Definitely not just unconscious. I look down at the body of an employee, blood gushing from his neck.

Jackson backs up into a ladder, sending the light crashing down. He falls to the side to avoid getting hit as the power goes off. Red lights flash as Jackson gets up. We turn and see a pair of glowing red eyes at the other end of the room. Eyes wide, Jackson grabs my arm and shoves me next to him between two aisles. I am crouching on his left, my back against the shelves.

Jackson peeks around the corner of the rack, but quickly looks away. I take deep breaths, trying to calm myself down. I am determined to not die in the fucking vampire romance section next to Jackson fucking Whittemore.

Movies fall around us, signaling the creature is moving. Suddenly, I hear banging and realize the aisles are falling like dominos. Jackson and I attempt to get out of the way, but the aisle falls, trapping us underneath.

I can’t see anything around the piles of movies around me, besides Jackson’s feet in my face. I try to shift, but realize the entire weight of the rack is on top of me. My vision slowly fades to black.

* * *

Next thing I know, I am sitting on the step of an ambulance holding an ice pack to my head and sitting next to Lydia. Two police cars pull up, and Noah gets out of one of them, my brother getting out of the other. I look inside the sheriff’s car and am relieved to see my best friend sitting in it.

“Vivian,” Griffin sighs in relief, wrapping me in a hug. “Are you alright?”

“Fine,” I say.

He pulls away, keeping a grip on my shoulder, and turns to the paramedic. “She’s just fine, sir,” the paramedic says. “One of the aisles collapsed on top of her; it’s a miracle she doesn’t have any broken bones. Not even a concussion.”

“Why the hell can’t I just go home?” Jackson demands, gaining our attention. I can feel him getting angrier by the second. I wince at his volume. “I’m fine!”

“I hear ya, but the EMT says you hit your head pretty hard,” Noah says, walking up to us. “They just want to make sure you don’t have a concussion.”

“What part of ‘I’m fine’ are you having a problem grasping?” He asks, keeping one hand latched to Lydia’s, his free hand waving in the air with his words. “Okay, I wanna go home.”

“And we understand that,” Griffin says, moving to stand next to Noah, in an attempt to calm Jackson down.

“No, you don’t understand,” Jackson insists, “which kind of blows my mind, since it should be a pretty basic concept to grasp for a minimum-wage rent-a-cop like you two!”

I glare at Jackson as I shoot up from my seat, totally done with his attitude. “Hey!” I exclaim. “There’s no need to take your anger out on them!” Stiles gets out of the car and moves over to me.

Jackson ignores me and keeps yelling. “I want to go home!” At Jackson’s volume, Stiles steps closer to me. Before he can speak, a movement to the side gets his attention.

“Oh, whoa, is that a dead body?” Stiles exclaims. I turn to see the gurney with the dead employee on it, and immediately tense. Noticing this, Stiles places a comforting hand on my shoulder.

Throwing Stiles a look, Noah starts shouting orders to the crowd. “Everybody back up,” he says.

As he does that, Griffin turns to me. “I’m going to get you home, okay?” I nod, and he walks over to Noah to tell him we’re leaving. I turn to give the ice pack back to the paramedic, but she shakes her head. “You keep it, honey,” she smiles.

“Thanks,” I say quietly.

“You okay?” Stiles asks, his hand still on my shoulder.

I shrug. “I’ll be fine.” I must not be very convincing because he puts an arm around me in an awkward hug.

After a second, he lets go and Griffin reaches us. “You ready, kiddo?” I nod.

“I’ll see you,” I say to Stiles as Griffin and I walk toward his car.

* * *

“Hey, Byrne,” a voice behind me calls the next day at school. I turn to see Jake Johnson, one of Jackson’s buddies, come up behind me.

“Oh, uh, hey Jake,” I say, fiddling with the strap of my backpack.

“Can I ask you a question?”

“Yeah, I guess.” Where is he going with this?

“What’s that gnarly scar behind your right shoulder?” He asks, no reservation in his tone.

I laugh nervously, tensing. “What? What are you talking about? How do you even know about that?”

Jake shrugs. “My girlfriend saw it in the locker room, before gym. What’s it from?”

I start to shrink away, trying to make myself smaller. “Not your business.”

“Oh, come on, just tell me,” he insists.

I shake my head. “No.”

“Viv, come on.”

“Don’t call me Viv,” I snap.

“Fine, _Vivian_ ,” he says, rolling his eyes. “Is it from the car accident?”

I freeze. “How did you-?”

“Jackson told me about it last week,” he informs me. I hold back a groan. Great. Yet another reason to hate Jackson Whittemore. “Come on- is that it?”

“It’s not your business, Jake,” I say, starting to walk faster.

“Vivian-” He grabs my shoulder and I don’t waste a second to whip around, bringing my fist back and slamming it into his nose.

He stumbles back, blood gushing from his nose, shouting, “What the hell? Why did you do that?”

I don’t answer, instead breathing hard, rubbing my hand. Wow, punching someone hurts.

Before I know it, teachers are surrounding us. I feel a hand on my shoulder and look up to see Stiles. “You okay?” He asks, concern in his eyes.

I nod. “I’m fine.” I turn back to Jake. “Leave me alone,” I say, cursing myself when my voice cracks. With that, I walk off.

* * *

“Just a friendly reminder,” Harris says. “Parent-teacher conferences are tonight. Students below a ‘C’ average are required to attend. I won’t name you, because the shame and self-disgust should be more than enough punishment.” He stops at the desk Stiles and I sit at and asks, “Has anyone seen Scott McCall?”

We shake our heads when Harris looks to us for an answer. We saw Scott this morning, before classes, but haven’t seen him since.

Just then, the door opens and shuts, Jackson walking through. As he sits at his desk, Harris goes over to him and leans down, obviously trying to have a private conversation, but since no one is talking, everyone can hear his words. “Hey, Jackson. If you need to leave early for any reason, you let me know.” Jackson nods and catches my eye, and I give a small smile and a thumbs up to let him know I’m fine. He answers with his own thumbs up. I don’t like the guy, but he did make sure I stayed safe last night, even if a shelf _did_ end up falling on me.

Harris turns back to me. “Vivian, that goes for you, too.” I shrink back as everyone’s eyes dart between Jackson and I.

“Everyone, start reading chapter nine,” he continues, walking up to the chalkboard. “Mr. Stilinski. Try putting the highlighter down between paragraphs. It’s chemistry- not a coloring book.” Stiles and I exchange an eye roll, and he spits the highlighter cap that was between his lips into the air, catching it before it lands on the ground.

Glancing at Jackson, he leans forward to get Danny’s attention. “Hey, Danny. Can I ask you a question?”

“No,” Danny says simply.

“Well, I’m going to, anyway.” I snort. “Um, did Lydia show up in your homeroom today?”

Danny sighs, glancing at Jackson before answering, “No.”

“Can I ask you another question?”

“Answer’s still no.”

“Does anyone know what happened last night?”

Yes, I do. And I told Stiles what happened last night, when it happened.

“He wouldn’t… tell me,” Danny admits.

“But he’s your best friend,” Stiles says. Way to state the obvious. Danny just shrugs, and Stiles leans forward again. “One more question.”

“What?”

“Do you find me attractive?”

I facepalm. Danny doesn’t answer, and Stiles leans forward more, but the stool slips and he falls forward with a clatter. He catches himself and I cover my mouth with my hand, trying to hold back a laugh as everyone looks in our direction.

“Graceful as ever,” I whisper as Stiles sits back on his stool, which earns me a small glare, but I just smile at him.

* * *

The bell rings and I walk out of science class with Stiles, who is leaving another message for Scott. As students move quickly through the hall, I keep my head low and hug my books close to my chest. Maybe coming to school today wasn’t such a good idea.

“Hey,” Stiles says, falling into step with me. “How you doin’? How’s your hand?”

I shrug. “I’m fine.”

Stiles furrows his eyebrows. “You’re sure?”

I roll my eyes. “Yes, Stiles, I am sure.”

He examines my face to determine if I’m lying or not. “You could’ve stayed home. I would’ve brought your homework to you.”

“Yeah, I probably should have stayed home,” I acknowledge, facing forward. “I just... I needed a distraction today.”

“If you want a distraction, I’m going to check on Lydia, if you want to come.”

I tense. “I think I’m just going to head home.” I know that if I see Lydia, I might lose it. It’s best if I stay away for now.

Stiles nods and we continue walking down the hall toward our next class.

“You know,” he says, “it’s about time someone punched Johnson.”

We share a small laugh as we walk into our history class.

* * *

A knock on my door causes me to look up from my book. I see Griffin standing in the doorway. “Please tell me I’m going to hear good things tonight at this parent-teacher conference,” he says.

I smile nervously. “I’m not failing any classes,” I say.

He chuckles. “I’ll see you later tonight. Get some rest.” I nod, and he leaves.

My phone chimes and I see a text from Stiles. **_Have you heard from Scott?_**

I text back that I haven’t.

After a minute, he texts me again. **_I found something on Lydia’s phone. She caught the alpha on video._**

I gasp. That was not what I was expecting. **_You know you have to delete the video, right?_**

**_I know. I already did._ **

After another minute, I take a deep breath and send another text. **_Hey, can I come with you to the school tonight, so I can meet Griffin? I don’t really want to be home alone right now._**

It takes only a few seconds for Stiles to respond. **_Of course. I’m on my way._**

* * *

**3rd Person POV**

“Jackson’s a highly motivated student,” Mr. Harris begins his conference with the Whittemores. “In fact, I’d describe him as ‘unusually driven.’”

Mr. and Mrs. Whittemore both nod. “Yeah, we were hoping he might ease up on himself a little,” Mr. Whittemore says. “He’s always been real hard on himself. It’s just, you know, something we assumed was an effect of him being adopted.”

“I think I understand,” Mr. Harris says. “He’s never met his biological parents.”

“Yeah, that’s right. It’s the need to please, the overachieving, the desire to make someone proud- someone he’s never even met.”

“Something certainly seems to have recalibrated his desire for achievement several notches higher. Not to be too blunt about it, he seems almost obsessed.”

~~~

“Let me tell you, there’s plenty to say about Lydia,” Ms. Ramsey smiles at Mr. and Ms. Martin.

“Did I not predict this?” Mr. Martin asks, turning to his ex-wife.

“Here we go,” Ms. Martin sighs, shaking her head. “Total nuclear meltdown as usual.”

“What is it?” Mr. Martin asks Ms. Ramsey. “Is it her grades, concentration issues, erratic behavior?” He throws each statement over to his ex-wife, who is not having any of it.

“I’m not the one who told her she had to choose who she wants to live with, as if that wouldn’t warp a sixteen-year-old girl,” she shoots back.

“Just tell us what the problem is,” Mr. Martin says to Ms. Ramsey.

She chuckles. “I wasn’t aware that there was a problem.” Ms. Martin tosses a smug look over to her ex-husband, who gives an annoyed look in return. “Academically, Lydia’s one of the finest students I’ve ever had. Her A.P. classes push her GPA above a 5.0. I’d actually like to have her I.Q. tested. And socially, she displays outstanding leadership qualities. I mean, she’s a real leader.”

~~~

“Stiles, that’s right,” Coach Finstock says, sifting through the messy pile of files on his desk. “I thought ‘Stiles’ was his last name.”

“His last name is ‘Stilinski’,” Noah says, already slightly annoyed with the teacher.

“You named your kid ‘Stiles Stilinski’?”

“No, that’s just what he likes to be called.”

Coach goes back to searching the files, saying, “Oh. Well, I like to be called ‘cupcake’... What is his first name?” Noah reaches over and points to the file that had been at the top of the pile the whole time. Coach’s eyes bug out. “Wow, that’s a form of child abuse.” He brings the file closer to his face, turning it this way and that. “I don’t- I don’t even know how to pronounce that.”

“It was his mother’s father’s name,” Noah says, smiling slightly.

“Wow,” Coach laughs. “You must _really_ love your wife.”

“Yeah, I did,” he nods.

Coach stops. “Well, this just became incredibly awkward.”

Noah leans forward. “Hey, what do you say we get to the conference part of this conference, cupcake?”

“I like your thinking.” He flips through some papers, and continues, “So, Stiles. Great kid. _Zero_ ability to focus. Super smart. Never takes advantage of his talents.”

“How do you mean?”

“Well, for his final question on his midterm exam, he detailed the entire history of the male circumcision.”

“Well, I mean, it does have… historical significance, right? I mean-”

“I teach economics,” Coach says bluntly.

“Ah, crap,” Noah sighs.

~~~

“Where the hell are you?” Melissa snaps into her phone, leaving yet another voicemail for Scott. “Get to the school now.”

“How about we get started?” Harris suggests as Melissa hangs up.

“Sure."

“Lately, Scott’s mind has been somewhere else, as has his body. Personally, I think it may have something to do with his home situation.”

“Oh, well, personally, I’m not sure what you mean by ‘home situation.’”

“Uh, specifically the lack of an authority figure.”

Melissa shakes her head, still confused. “Yeah, I’m the authority figure, so…”

“Sorry, allow me to clarify. I mean the lack of a _male_ authority figure.”

“Oh. Well, trust me, we’re much better off without him in the picture,” she says, checking her phone to see if Scott answered back.

“Well, does Scott feel the same way?” Harris asks.

“Yes,” Melissa answers immediately, before switching to, “I think so. I hope so.”

“Scott’s one of my most intriguing students. You can tell there’s something different about him, something special. But he’s going through some difficult changes. He just needs a… little extra attention, a guiding hand through this crucial stage of his development.”

~~~

“Now, Vivian is extremely bright; she is my brightest student,” Mr. Brennan, Vivian’s history teacher, says. “I’ve been going over her files in other classes, and her A.P. classes push her GPA above a 5.0. I would actually like to have her I.Q. tested.” Griffin smiles to himself, proud of his sister. “Socially, she hasn’t been doing too well. So far, she hasn’t joined any clubs. I’ve only seen her talking to a few kids in the school. She seems to be close to one of my students in particular- a Stiles Stilinski.”

Griffin nods. “Yeah, we actually grew up with the Stilinskis. Stiles’s parents were mine and Vivian’s godparents.”

“Well, I know she’s new, and it may take her time to make more friends, but I suggest that she branches out a little more.” Griffin nods again, and Mr. Brennan continues. “However, despite her grades, she is slightly violent.”

“What are you talking about?” Griffin asks, the smile fading. “Vivian isn’t violent.”

“This morning, just before my class, Vivian punched a boy in the nose. It’s not broken but he’ll be wearing an ice pack for a few days.” At the shocked look on Griffin’s face, Mr. Brennan continues. “I’m guessing she didn’t tell you about this.”

Griffin shakes his head. “No, this is the first I’m hearing about this. Do you know what happened? Did Vivian have a reason?”

“She wouldn’t say. I know that she had a few incidents like these before.”

“When she was younger,” Griffin nods. “After our parents and sister died. But the last time this happened was last year. And it only happened two times besides today.”

“Has Vivian gotten any professional help back then? Someone to talk to?”

“Like a therapist? No. I tried getting her to go but she never wanted to.”

“If these incidents continue, I think she should seek help,” Brennan suggests. Griffin opens his mouth to speak, but Harris interrupts. “It does not have to be a professional therapist, but I at least advise the school counselor. It might do her some good.”

~~~

“Allison Argent,” Ms. Ramsey says. Allison’s parents, Chris and Victoria, sit in front of her. “An incredibly sweet girl.” Both Chris and Victoria smile at that. “And quick to adjust, despite all the moving around.”

Allison’s parents exchange a glance, and Chris says, “We know it’s hard on her, but uh, it’s a necessary evil.”

“Necessary or not, I’d be prepared for some…” Ms. Ramsey sighs. “How do I put this?”

“Rebelliousness?” Chris guesses.

“We appreciate the concern,” Victoria says, “but we have a great relationship with our daughter. Very open and honest.”

“I’m happy to hear that,” Ms. Ramsey says. “And let her know that I hope she’s feeling better.”

Both Chris and Victoria send the teacher a confused look. “Oh, she wasn’t in class?” Chris asks.

“Oh, she wasn’t in school. I checked with the office.”

~~~

“So, how’d it go?” Noah asks as he falls into step with Griffin.

“Well, Vivian punched a boy in the nose this morning,” Griffin says simply. Wanting to change the subject, he asks, “How’s Stiles?”

“Oh, you know, he doesn’t know one class from the other,” Noah sighs.

“Oh.” Griffin pauses. “Hey, do you ever feel like you don’t know what you’re doing?”

Noah shrugs. “All the time, son. That’s the secret of parenting.”

“It’s just- when it comes to kids, the plan was always that I would be married first… in my thirties, with a partner that I love. And when I had them, they would be babies.” Griffin sighs. “I wasn’t supposed to be a twenty-four-year-old guardian to a sixteen-year-old girl, and I don’t even have a partner.”

Noah stops walking, placing a hand on his godson’s shoulder. “Look, Griffin, it’s always going to be hard looking after Viv. It’s hard looking after _any_ kid by yourself, not just in your situation. But, you are not by yourself. You got me. I may not always have the answers, but I like to think I’m doing okay with Stiles.” He sighs. “Anything you need, you come to me.”

“Thanks, Noah,” Griffin says.

* * *

“Hey, kiddo.” I look up to see my brother walking out of the classroom.

“How’d it go?” I ask nervously, getting up from the bench I was sitting on.

“You are doing amazing in all of your classes,” he starts. My face brightens. “All your teachers raved about how despite the recent move and everything in Los Angeles, you’re doing better than most of your classmates.” He takes a breath and says, “However-”

“There’s a however?” I ask, fidgeting anxiously. “What’s the however for?”

“However, I had a chat with Mr. Brennan a little while ago,” Griffin says, sitting down on the bench, and I follow suit. “Said you punched a boy right before his class.”

I close my eyes, wincing. “Viv, what happened?” He continues. “You haven’t had an incident like this since before we moved here.”

“He was asking about the accident,” I sigh. “Said his girlfriend saw the scar on my shoulder in the locker room during gym and wanted to know where I got it. I couldn’t take it, so I punched him.”

Griffin sighs. “Viv, you can’t keep punching people every time they annoy you."

I nod. “I know that. This wasn’t some kid annoying me. This was a dick harassing me about my personal business, and he wouldn’t let up.” I shake my head. “Look, I’m sorry I keep doing this.”

“I know you are,” he says, smiling slightly. He nods toward my hand. “How’s the hand?”

I flex my fingers a little. “A little sore, but fine. Why?”

“Because when we get home, I’m going to teach you how to throw a proper punch.” I look at him in shock. “First tip: keep your wrist straight so you don’t jam it.”

I nod. “Good to know,” I say, smiling.

Griffin stands, smirking, and says, “Come on, let’s get out of here.” As we walk outside, we hear screams coming from the parking lot.

I look around, but can’t find the source of the panic. I spot Scott, Allison, and their parents and we quickly head over to them. Griffin begins walking quickly toward a group of people to see what is going on. “Griffin,” I call, fear creeping into my voice.

He turns back to me. “Stay there,” he tells me before walking away.

As I hear a growl, I slam my eyes closed as flashes from last night appear in my mind. I hear a car horn and open my eyes to see a vehicle speeding toward me. I realize I won’t be able to move fast enough to get out of the way. Suddenly, someone picks me up by my waist and puts me down a few feet away. I look up and see Stiles standing in front of me, his hands on my shoulders.

“Are you okay?” He asks, concerned-filled eyes flitting between my own widened ones.

I nod quickly, clinging to Stiles's wrists, trying to calm down by taking deep breaths, but it’s not working. My eyes flit around the parking lot, trying to find my brother. Suddenly, a gunshot rings through the air, and Stiles instinctively pulls me closer as we duck behind a pillar.

Everyone begins to crowd in one area and Stiles and I follow. On the ground is a mountain lion, now dead thanks to Mr. Argent. That’s when I notice Noah on the ground, my brother kneeling next to him. “Dad!” Stiles cries, immediately kneeling down to check on his father. People crowd around Noah, but he waves them off as my brother calls dispatch.


	6. Heart Monitor

As soon as I walk into English class, I immediately sense the awkwardness between Stiles and Scott. I look between them as I take my seat, trying to will a conversation into existence.

Scott leans forward. “Still not talking to me?” Scott asks Stiles.

Silence from Stiles.

“Can you at least tell me if your dad’s okay? I mean, it’s just a bruise, right? Some soft tissue damage? Nothing that big?”

“He still got hit by a fucking car, Scott,” I blurt. He throws me a look. “Sorry.”

“You know I feel really bad about it, right?” Scott asks. Stiles still doesn’t say anything. “Okay. What if I told you that I’m trying to figure this whole thing out, and… that I went to Derek for help?”

I whip my head around and shoot Scott an incredulous look. Did he just say he went to _Derek Hale_ for help? Like that’s going to go well.

Stiles shakes his head and releases an exasperated sigh. “If I was talking to you, I’d say that you’re an idiot for trusting him,” he says. “But, obviously I’m not talking to you.”

The bell rings as Stiles clicks his tongue. Scott leans back in his seat in defeat. I look back over at Stiles, who cannot sit still, and I smirk, knowing he is dying to ask. Finally, he sighs and turns around in his seat. “What did he say?” He asks.

* * *

“He wants you to tap into your animal side and get angry?” Stiles asks as we walk out of the classroom.

“Yeah,” Scott confirms.

“Alright, well, correct me if I’m wrong, but every time you do that, you try to kill someone, and that someone is usually us.” Stiles gestures between him and I.

“Sounds about right,” I say.

“I know,” Scott says. “That’s what he means when he says he doesn’t know if he can teach me. I have to be able to control it.”

“Well, how is he going to teach you how to do that?”

“I don’t know. I don’t think he does either.”

I nod. “Wow, Derek definitely did not go to teacher’s college, did he?”

“Okay, when are you seeing him again?” Stiles asks as he throws his head back.

“He just told me not to talk about it,” Scott says. “Just act normal and get through the day.”

Stiles taps him on the shoulder, and we stop walking. “When?”

“He’s picking me up at the animal clinic after work.”

“After work.” Stiles exchanges a look with me. “That gives us until the end of the school day, then.”

“To do what?” Scott asks in confusion.

I smile and shrug. “To teach you ourselves, of course,” I answer, walking away, leaving the boys to follow.

* * *

I am sitting with Lydia and Allison during lunch as Allison reads aloud from a book. “The what of who?” Lydia asks, a mixture of confusion and boredom evident in her tone.

“The Beast of Gévaudan,” Allison answers. “Listen- ‘A quadruped beast wolf-like monster, prowling the Auvergne and south Dordogne areas of France during the year 1764 to 1767. Le Bête killed over a hundred people, becoming so infamous that the king Louie the 15th sent one of his best hunters to try and kill it.’”

“Boring,” Lydia interrupts, pointing her fork at Allison. I take a bite of my apple, listening intently as Allison continues.

“‘Even the church declared the monster a messenger of Satan.’“

I whistle lowly. “Damn,” I say, impressed.

“Hm,” Lydia hums. “Still boring.”

Allison and I exchange a playful eyeroll. “’Cryptozoologists believe it may have been a subspecies of a hoofed predator, possibly a mesonychid’,” Allison continues.

Lydia pops a blueberry into her mouth. “Slipping into a coma bored.”

“‘While others believe it was a powerful sorcerer who could shape-shift into a man-eating monster.’”

“This is really interesting stuff,” I say before Lydia can speak. “You said this had something to do with your family?”

Allison nods and looks toward the book again. “This- ‘It is believed that La Bête was finally trapped and killed by a renown hunter who claimed his wife and four children were the first to fall prey to the creature.’” Allison looks up from her book, smiling at Lydia and I. “His name was Argent.”

“Your ancestors killed a big wolf,” Lydia says. “So what?”

“Not just a big wolf. Take a look at this picture.” Allison holds the book up for Lydia and I to see. “What does it look like to you guys?” My heart stops as I look at it. It was a large black creature with glowing red eyes. Just like the one at the video store. Holy shit. Allison’s ancestors didn’t just kill a wolf- they killed a _werewolf_.

Allison’s voice snaps me out of my state of silence. “Lydia? Vivian?”

“It looks… like a big… wolf,” Lydia says. She smiles, seemingly back to her old self. “See you in history.” She gathers her things and walks quickly out of the cafeteria.

As she leaves, Allison looks back at me. I guess I didn’t make as much of a convincing expression as Lydia because she frowns. “Are you okay, Viv?”

I nod. “Fine,” I say. God, it seems like I’m saying that a lot lately. “Just tired, I guess.” I shake my head, trying to change the subject. “This stuff is really interesting. I wish I could learn this much about my family.”

“You don’t know much?” She questions.

I shake my head. “I know my dad’s family immigrated from Ireland during World War Two, had my dad, and died when I was a baby. They didn’t talk about their lives in Ireland much, so Dad doesn’t know a lot either.”

“What about your mom’s side?”

“Mom wasn’t very close to her family,” I shrug. “Something happened between her and her mom before I was born, but she wouldn’t tell me what. I don’t know much more than my grandparents’ names.”

Allison immediately looks guilty. “Sorry,” she says. “I didn’t mean to pry.”

“No, no, it’s okay,” I assure her. Suddenly, a movement off to the side catches my eye, and I see Stiles waving me over. “I have to go. I’ll see you in class.”

“Bye,” she says. By the time I gather my things together, she is already engrossed in her book again.

I laugh as I walk over to Scott and Stiles. Scott is attempting to hide behind a bright orange textbook, but it isn’t working. “Yeah, so the book is making it a lot more obvious,” I smirk as I sit next to Stiles. “Besides, she’s reading anyway.”

Scott peeks over the textbook. “So did you guys come up with a plan yet?” He asks.

“I think so,” I say, as Stiles takes a bite of his apple.

“Does that mean you don’t hate me now?” Scott looks skeptically at Stiles.

“No,” Stiles answers. “But your crap has infiltrated my life, so now I have to do something about it.”

I roll my eyes playfully. “What he means is, we are glad to help you.”

“Plus, we’re definitely better Yodas than Derek,” Stiles adds.

“Okay, yeah, you guys teach me,” Scott says.

“Yeah, we’ll be your Yoda,” I smile.

“Yeah, you be my Yoda.”

“Your Yoda I will be,” Stiles says, imitating Yoda’s voice. I laugh. When Scott doesn’t, Stiles continues, chuckling. “I said it backwards.”

“Yeah- I know,” Scott says, slightly annoyed.

Raising my eyebrows in shock, I ask, “Have you not seen _Star Wars_?” Scott shakes his head, and Stiles makes an offended noise as we both gather our stuff.

“All right, you know what?” He says to Scott. “I definitely still hate you.” He gets louder as he takes the textbook Scott was hiding behind. “Uh-huh. Oh, yeah. Come on, Viv.” I toss my backpack over my shoulder and Stiles and I walk out of the cafeteria.

“Hey, so where are we going?” Stiles asks as we walk down the hallway.

I smirk at him as I say, “Coach’s office.”

* * *

During study hall, Scott follows Stiles and I onto the lacrosse field. “Okay,” Stiles says, sitting on the bench, duffel bag and lacrosse stick next to him. He hands Scott a device. “Now… put this on.”

Scott looks at it in confusion. “Isn’t this one of the heart rate monitors for the track team?” He asks.

“Yes, yes it is,” I say. “We borrowed it.”

“Stole it,” Scott translates.

“Temporarily misappropriated,” I counter.

Stiles tosses me a smirk before getting us back on track. “Coach uses it to monitor his heart rate with his phone while he jogs, and you’re gonna wear it for the rest of the day.”

Scott gestures to something in Stiles’s hand. “Isn’t that Coach’s phone?”

“That, we stole,” Stiles admits.

“Why?”

“Alright, well, your heart rate goes up when you go wolf, right? When you’re playing lacrosse, when you’re with Allison, whenever you get angry.”

“Maybe learning to control it is tied to learning how to control your heart rate,” I continue. I snap my fingers, a thought occurring to me. “Like the Incredible Hulk!”

“Yeah,” Scott smiles.

I share an annoyed look with Stiles. “That reference he gets?” I ask.

Stiles shakes his head. “Kind of like the Incredible Hulk, yeah.”

“No, I’m like the Incredible Hulk,” Scott says, his smile growing.

“Would you shut up and put the strap on?” Stiles snaps.

After Scott does, we walk onto the middle of the field, and Stiles duct tapes Scott’s hands behind his back. “This isn’t exactly how I wanted to spend my free period,” Scott complains.

“Alright, you ready?” Stiles asks, walking away.

“No,” Scott deadpans, and I smirk.

“Remember, don’t get angry.”

Stiles grabs his lacrosse stick, scooping the ball into the net. “I’m starting to think this was a really bad idea,” Scott says.

I shrug. “Eh, when have we ever had good ideas?”

Suddenly, Stiles throws the ball at Scott, which hits him in the chest and has him doubled over, groaning. I wince. The next one hits him right in the face. “Okay, that one… kind of hurt,” he groans.

“Quiet,” Stiles says, getting the next ball ready. “Remember, you’re supposed to be thinking about your heart rate, about staying calm.”

As Scott dodges a ball, he mutters, “Stay calm. Staying calm. Staying totally calm.” He jumps up and down. “There’s no balls flying at my face-” He is cut off by a ball slamming into his shoulder, and I hold back a smile. This isn’t funny. Nope, not at all.

As another ball hits him, Scott yells, “Ah! Son of a bitch!”

“You know what, I think my aim is actually improving,” Stiles quips. I fail to hold back a loud snort.

“Wonder why,” Scott says, readying himself for another ball.

As the device beeps, I say, “Don’t get angry. You can do it.”

“I’m not getting angry,” he glares, and groans as a ball hits him in the chest. “Stop, just wait. Just hold on.” Stiles ignores him and another ball hits him. He leans over and starts breathing more heavily. I realize what is happening and step closer to Stiles. The beeping on Coach’s phone increases as Scott’s heart rate increases. Scott drops to his knees, groaning. Fuck.

Stiles immediately puts down his lacrosse stick and picks up the phone. “Scott?” He asks, stepping closer. I grab his wrist, stopping his steps as Scott collapses on the ground, breaking the duct tape like it’s no stronger than toilet paper.

“Scott, are you okay?” I ask tentatively. Suddenly, the beeping slows down, and Scott’s heart rate returns to normal. Stiles and I cautiously move to his side.

“Scott, you started to change,” Stiles says.

“From anger,” Scott says. “But it was more than that. It was like, the angrier I got, the stronger I felt.”

“So, it is anger, then,” I confirm. “Derek’s right.”

“I can’t be around Allison,” he continues.

“Just because she makes you happy?” Stiles asks.

Scott shakes his head. “No, because she makes me weak.”

* * *

Scott, Stiles, and I walk into economics, and I can tell Coach is already impatient. “Let’s go. Sit, sit, sit, sit. We got a lot to cover today. Let’s go. Quicker.”

As I sit down and take out my notebook, Scott whispers frantically to Stiles. “Hey, Stiles, sit behind me, dude.” Stiles grabs his stuff and heads for the seat Scott pointed out, but before he could sit, Allison grabs it. Stiles sends Scott an apologetic look before getting settled in the seat between Scott and I.

“Hey,” Allison says. “I haven’t seen you all day.”

“Uh, yeah,” Scott stammers. “I’ve been super busy.”

“When are you going to get your phone fixed? I feel like I’m totally disconnected from you.”

“Uh, soon. Real soon.” He goes to turn to the front of the room, but Allison continues.

“I changed lab partners, by the way,” she smiles.

“Oh. To who?”

“To you, dummy,” she chuckles.

“Me?” Scott asks, trying and failing to mask his shock. “I mean, are you sure?”

“Yeah. This way I have an excuse to bring you home and study.”

“Oh,” Scott manages. He doesn’t look like he knows what to say.

“You don’t mind, do you?” Allison asks hesitantly.

“I just- I don’t want to bring your grade down,” Scott says quickly.

Allison shakes her head. “Well, I mean, maybe I can bring your grade up.” I glance at Stiles just in time to see him roll his eyes at the two. “Come to my place tonight. Eight thirty?” Allison continues.

“Tonight?” I can see the freak out clear on his face.

“Eight thirty.”

Before Scott can respond, Coach slams a textbook on his desk, gaining everyone’s attention. “Let’s settle down. Let’s start with a quick summary of last night’s reading.” I raise my hand to volunteer. “Greenberg, put your hand down. Everybody knows you did the reading. How about, uh… McCall.”

I put my hand down as Scott looks up, confused. “What?” Scott asks.

“The reading,” Coach says.

“Last night’s reading?” Scott asks hesitantly.

“How about, uh, the reading of the Gettysburg Address,” Coach jokes, and everyone laughs.

“What?”

“That’s sarcasm. You familiar with the term ‘sarcasm’, McCall?”

With a look thrown to Stiles and I, both of us smiling proudly by the way, he answers, “Very.” I barely manage to hold back a snort.

“Did you do the reading or not?” Coach asks, getting annoyed.

“Uh- I think I forgot.”

“Nice work, McCall. It’s not like you’re not averaging a ‘D’ in this class.” People chuckle with Coach’s words. Assholes. He leans down close to Scott. “Come on, buddy. You know I can’t keep you on the team if you have a ‘D’. How about you summarize, uh, the previous night’s reading?” I hear beeping and I look over at Stiles, who is looking at the heart monitor. He turns the screen toward me and I can see Scott’s heartbeat rising steadily. Scott shakes his head, silent. “No? How about the night before that?”

More silence.

“How about you summarize anything you’ve ever read… in your entire life!”

“I- I- uh,” Scott stammers. As I watch the number on the monitor go up, I exchange a worried glance with Stiles, and I shift in my seat.

“No? A blog? How about, uh, the back of a cereal box? No? How about the adults only warning from your favorite website you visit every night? Anything?” When Scott doesn’t answer, Coach walks away toward his desk. “Thank you McCall, thank you. Thank you!” He pounds his desk with every word. “Thank you for extinguishing any last flicker of hope I have for your generation.” The beeping on the heart monitor goes even faster. I consider yelling at Coach to stop, but then I figure yelling at a teacher would not end well for me. “You just blew it for everybody. Thanks. Next practice you can start with suicide runs. Unless that’s too much reading.”

Just as I think Scott is going to wolf out, the beeping on the monitor decreases and Stiles looks at me, relieved. I let out a breath.

“Alright,” Coach says, slightly calmer now. “Everybody else, settle down.” I look over at Scott to see what happened that made him calm, and when I crane my neck, I can see his and Allison’s hands intertwined. I smile to myself. She kept him calm.

* * *

“It’s her,” Stiles says as soon as we leave the classroom.

“What do you mean?” Scott asks.

“It’s Allison.” At Scott’s confused expression, he continues. “Remember what you told us about the night of the full moon? You were thinking about her, right? About protecting her.”

“Okay.”

“Remember the night of the first lacrosse game? You said you could hear her voice out in the field.”

“Yeah, I did,” Scott confirmed.

Now seeing where Stiles was going with this, I continue. “That’s what brought you back so you could score the goal,” I say. “And then after the game in the locker room, you didn’t kill her. At least not like how you were trying to kill Stiles and I.” Scott shoots me a glare. “She brings you back, is what I am trying to say.”

“No, no, no, no, but that’s not always true,” Scott protests, “because literally every time I’m kissing her or- or touching her…”

“No, that’s not the same,” Stiles says. “When you’re doing that, you’re just another hormonal teenager thinking about sex, you know?”

Scott starts to smile. “You’re thinking about sex right now, aren’t you?” I ask.

“Yeah, sorry.”

“That’s fine,” Stiles says. “Look, back in the classroom when she was holding your hand- was different, okay? I don’t think she makes you weak. I- I think she actually gives you control.”

“She’s kind of like an anchor,” I say.

“You mean because I love her,” Scott says as we all stop by the stairs.

“Exactly,” Stiles says, not processing what Scott blurted out.

Scott looks down, shocked. “Did I just say that?”

I start to smile. “Yep,” I quip.

“Yes, you just said that,” Stiles says.

Scott breathes out a laugh, a dreamy expression on his face. “I love her.”

“That’s great. Now moving on-”

“No, no, no, really,” he interrupts. “I think I’m totally in love with her.”

“Aww,” I say, grinning. “My best friend is in love.” I catch Stiles staring at me, and I can’t read his expression. “What?”

Stiles shakes his head. “Nothing. N-nothing,” he says. I give him a weird look and focus on Scott.

“I am,” Scott continues, oblivious to whatever just happened. “I’m definitely in with her.”

“And that’s beautiful,” Stiles says, obviously wanting to move on. “Now, before you go off and write a _sonnet_ , can we figure this out please? Because you obviously can’t be around her all the time.”

Scott shakes his head. “Yeah, yeah, yeah. Sorry. So, what do I do?”

Stiles and I exchange a look. I sigh, and we both look back at Scott. “We actually have no idea. _Yet_.”

Thinking hard, Stiles turns in a full circle. “Oh, no,” Scott says, noticing the look on Stiles’s face. “You’re getting an idea, aren’t you?”

“Yeah,” Stiles says.

“Is this idea gonna get me in trouble?”

“Maybe.”

“Is this idea better or worse than Viv’s?”

Stiles contemplates for a minute before answering, “It might be just a _tad_ worse than Viv’s.”

Scott and I exchange a worried glance. “Is this idea gonna cause Scott physical pain?” I feel the need to ask.

“Yeah, definitely,” Stiles answers without hesitating. “Come on.”

Scott and I follow Stiles out the side doors to the parking lot, and toward a truck nearby. Scott looks around and asks hesitantly, “What are we doing?”

“You’ll see. Hold on,” Stiles says. We stop in front of the truck, and I spot a group of guys talking nearby. “Okay. Scott, stand right there. Do you have your keys?” Scott takes them out and holds them up silently. “Perfect. Hold ‘em up, like so.” He takes Scott’s arm and sets it into the air. “Just like that.”

He looks behind him, and I follow his eyes to the group of guys nearby. I start to get a bad feeling in my stomach. He’s not…? No. This can’t be his idea, can it?

“Now, whatever happens, just think about Allison,” Stiles continues. “Try to find her voice like you did at the game. Got it?” Scott nods. “Okay.” Stiles accepts Scott’s nod and looks behind him at the group again, and the bad feeling in my stomach gets bigger. “Just… keep holding it right there.”

Stiles takes out his own keys and steps closer to the truck, me following. He scrapes his own keys against the entire side of the truck as we walk, and I grimace at the noise. He grabs my elbow leading me behind the truck as he points at Scott and yells, “Hey, hey, hey, dude! What do you think you’re doing to that truck, bro?”

The guys move their eyes over to us, then the truck, and then finally to Scott, who looks downright scared at this point. “What the hell?” The one in the hat shouts at Scott, who is still holding his own keys up, him and his friends walking over to him.

Scott quickly shoves his keys in his pocket, just in time to get punched in the face by the guy in the hat. “Oh, my god, wow,” Stiles says, throwing his hands up. I wince as the other two guys join in on beating on Scott. Good thing he heals quickly.

As the three guys start kicking him, the monitor starts beeping faster as Scott’s heart rate increases. “Ah, come on, stay calm,” he says. “Stay calm.” We grimace again as we look back up at the guys and Scott. “Oh, that’s not okay. Scott. Come on, buddy.”

I wince again and close my eyes, the beeping filling my ears. I only open them when I hear a voice call out, “Stop! Hey, stop it right now.” I look up to see Mr. Harris pull the guys off and away from Scott, who all scatter. “What do you idiots think you’re doing?”

Stiles holds up the phone, smirking as he shows off the low heart rate Scott has now since he calmed down. He was right.

* * *

How Scott, Stiles, and I get detention but not the guys who were beating up Scott, I have no idea.

All three of us are now sitting in Harris’s classroom, squeezed into one lab table, me in the middle. Our homework is in front of us, but none of us can focus on it. “Excuse me, sir?” Scott says. “Uh, I know this is detention and all, but, uh, I’m supposed to be at work, and I don’t want to get fired.”

Harris just glances at Scott and looks back down at his papers without a word.

“You knew I would heal,” Scott whispers to Stiles.

“Yep,” Stiles says.

“So, you did that to help me learn.”

“Yep.”

“But partially to punish me.”

“Yeah. Well, that one’s obvious.”

I snort.

Scott sighs. “Dude, you’re my best friend, and I can’t have you being angry with me.”

Stiles rubs his mouth and reluctantly says, “I’m not angry anymore. Look, you have something Scott. Okay? Whether you want it or not, you can do things that nobody else can do. So that means you don’t have a choice anymore. It means you have to do something.”

“I know. And I will.”

I smile, glad they finally made up.

“Alright, all of you, out of here,” Harris says, interrupting a perfectly good moment between bros.

“Thank you,” Scott gratefully says as we all grab our stuff to leave. As we exit the room, I can feel Harris’s eyes on us.

* * *

Later that night, Stiles pulls into the parking lot of the school. Scott, Stiles, and I all hop out and walk to the back of the Jeep. “This is a terrible idea,” Stiles says immediately.

“Yeah, I know,” Scott says.

“But we’re still going to do it?” Stiles asks.

“Can you think of something better?” Scott counters.

Stiles sweeps his arm in front of him and says, “Well, personally, I’m a fan of ignoring a problem until eventually it just goes away.” He turns to me. “Viv, you got anything?”

“I got absolutely nothing, Han,” I say, shaking my head.

“Why, thank you, Leia,” he says sarcastically.

I roll my eyes playfully. “Shut up.” I turn back to Scott. “If this is what gets me killed, I’m going to murder you.”

“Noted,” Scott says. “Just make sure we can get inside.” Stiles opens the Jeep’s trunk and takes out a large pair of bolt-cutters, just as a car pulls up. “He’s here.” We walk over to meet Derek by his car.

“Where’s my boss?” Scott asks.

“He’s in the back,” Derek answers, very calmly for a guy who kidnapped someone.

We lean down to see Scott’s boss tied up in the backseat. “Oh, well, he looks comfortable,” Stiles says sarcastically

Straightening, I say, “As the sister and the goddaughter of two cops, I feel obligated to tell you that kidnapping is illegal.”

“You just said you would kill me if this plan got you killed,” Scott says.

I shrug. “Well, I’ll at least haunt the hell out of you.”

“Something to look forward to.” Scott and Stiles exchange a look and start heading toward the school. “Viv, you coming?” Scott asks.

“I’m going to stay out here,” I say. “Be an extra set of eyes on Deaton.”

Stiles eyes Derek, but doesn’t have a chance to say anything before Scott nods and pulls him toward the door.

“Wait. Hey,” Derek calls. “What are you doing?”

“You said I was linked with the alpha,” Scott shrugs. “I’m gonna see if you’re right.” With that, he and Stiles walk toward the school doors. When they get the doors open. Stiles throws another glance back at Derek and I before following Scott inside.

* * *

“You didn’t have to stay out here,” Derek says. I’m glad he is the first one to speak- the silence was actually really uncomfortable.

“I know,” I say. “But if I went with them, I wouldn’t be able to talk to you. I have two things I want to tell you.”

“Two things specifically?” Derek asks, slightly sarcastic.

I glare at him. “One: Scott is my best friend. Him and Stiles- they mean the world to me. I want you to keep Scott safe.”

“The alpha is powerful, Vivian. I-“

“I know the alpha is powerful. And I know at some point, Scott will have to fight him. It might be tonight, with this god awful plan, or it might be tomorrow, or the next day, or any day after that. I’m not asking you if the alpha is powerful- I am asking you to keep my friend safe.”

After a minute, Derek speaks. “You are very protective.”

I shrug. “Well, like I said, Scott and Stiles mean a lot to me. I want them to be okay. The only way Scott is going to be okay is if you keep him safe.”

Derek nods. “I’ll try.”

“Good.”

After a second more of silence, Derek speaks again. “What was the other thing you wanted to talk to me about?”

“I’m really sorry about your sister,” I say quickly.

Derek looks down, his expression hardening. “Why?” He asks.

“Well, I know what it’s like to lose your sister- to lose anyone you love.” I take a deep breath. “It feels like- losing your other half.” Derek’s face softens. I clear my throat. “I just- want you to know that if you need someone to talk to, I’m here. I didn’t have anyone who understood what it was like to lose a sibling, and I’m guessing you feel the same way. But I’m here if you need me.”

Before Derek can respond, we hear the loudest, most strangled-sounding noise in the entire world coming from the school. I immediately bust out laughing. “You’ve got to be kidding me,” Derek winces.

When it’s over, and I gain control of myself, I turn to Derek. “So, I’ve never heard a werewolf howl before, but somehow I don’t think that was it.”

“That definitely wasn’t it,” Derek says, shaking his head.

After a minute, another howl came from the school. Except this time, it sounds like an actual roar. I smile as it ends. “Way to go, Scott,” I say. Derek doesn’t look as enthused as he walks around the Jeep to stare at the school. He doesn’t say anything; he just wears a stony expression until Scott and Stiles rejoin us in the parking lot.

“I’m going to kill both of you,” he snaps as soon as Scott and Stiles are in earshot. “What the hell was that?” I walk up to them and high-five both of them, grinning. “Vivian, stop high-fiving them. What were you trying to do, attract the entire state to the school?”

Scott shrugs, glancing at Stiles and I. “Sorry. I didn’t know it would be that loud.”

“Yeah, it was loud,” Stiles agrees. “And it was _awesome_!” He sings the last word, making Scott and I chuckle.

“Shut up,” Derek deadpans.

“Don’t be such a sour wolf,” Stiles jokes, flicking his hand out toward Derek. I snort, but my smile drops as Scott hits Stiles’s shoulder.

“What’d you do with him?” Scott asks, his eyes glued to Derek’s car.

“What?” Derek asks. We all turn to look at the backseat… which is now empty. Where the hell did Deaton go? “I didn’t do anything.”

At Scott and Stiles’s disbelieving expressions, I say, “Guys, he didn’t. I was out here the whole time- Derek didn’t do anything.”

I stare at the car, confused, until I hear a growl and blood starts coming out of Derek’s mouth. I gasp, eyes widening in horror as Derek is lifted up by the extremely _fucking_ terrifying alpha. I barely register Stiles grab my arm and pull me toward the school.

There’s another loud, absolutely _petrifying_ growl, and a thud against the side of the building, but I don’t look back as we reach the double doors and open them as swiftly as possible.

We rush inside and slam the doors closed, ducking under the windows before the alpha can follow us in. I lean against the doors, barely noticing I’m clutching onto Stiles’s arm, breathing heavily. “What the _fuck_ just happened?” I ask.


	7. Night School

“Lock it, lock it!” Scott was shouting to Stiles and I as we hold the school doors closed.

“Does it look like either of us have a key?” Stiles demanded.

“Grab something!”

“Like _what_?” I cry. I am breathing hard, and Stiles still has a tight grip on my arm. I can’t believe what just happened. I can’t believe Derek is dead, and there wasn’t anything we could do. I can’t help but think that minutes before, I was having a pleasant conversation with him. I mean, as pleasant as you can get with Derek Hale.

“Anything!” Scott’s voice brings me back to my senses.

Stiles freezes, then gets up to look out the window. “Are you insane?” I yell, tugging at his shirt, trying to get him to sit back down. “Do you _want_ the alpha to see you?” When he ignores me, Scott and I exchange a look and look out the windows with him, noticing the bolt cutters we left on the stairs.

“No,” Scott says simply as we realize what Stiles intends to do.

“Yes,” Stiles says back.

“No, okay, you definitely _are_ insane if _that_ is your best idea right now,” I say as Stiles opens the door.

“Stiles, no, don’t,” Scott begs as our friend moves quietly to the stairs. I go to follow, but Scott holds me back just as Stiles closes the door. Peering through the windows, Scott and I could see Stiles walk toward the bolt cutters, glancing around quickly. Out of the corner of my eye, I see the alpha come out from behind Stiles’s Jeep. I clutch Scott’s hand, fearing the worst, as we bang on the doors to get Stiles’s attention. “Come back!” We shout as loud as we can. “Come back! Stiles!” He turns toward us for a second before following our gaze to the alpha.

As soon as the alpha sees that Stiles sees him, he starts galloping toward him. Eyes wide, Stiles races back to the doors, flinging them open, then closed once he gets inside. Panting, he shoves the bolt cutters in between the handles, securing them as much as possible. With caution, we peer back through the windows, trying to see where the alpha is, but we don’t see him.

“Where is it? Where did it go?” Scott asks as Stiles grabs the flashlight from him, but even with the light, we still see nothing. We back up as one, both boys on either side of me.

“I’m guessing that thing is not gonna hold,” I say.

Swallowing hard, he looks at Scott and I, his eyes wide. “Probably not.”

“Fuck,” I breathe out as we look around the school, trying to figure out what to do. I hear howling in the distance, and immediately we bolt into an empty classroom. “The desk, grab the desk,” I say, and we each run up to either side of the desk, trying to drag it over to block the door. We immediately stop, as it is making way too much noise.

“Shh, stop, stop,” Stiles whispers. “The door’s not gonna keep it out.”

“I know,” Scott says.

“I hate your boss so much right now,” I say.

“What?” Scott asks.

I throw him a look. “Deaton, the alpha? Your boss.”

“No,” he scoffs, shaking his head.

“Yes,” Stiles backs me up. “Fucking murdering _psycho_ werewolf.”

“They can’t be,” Scott denies.

“Oh, come on. He disappears, and that thing shows up ten seconds later to toss Derek twenty feet through the air? That’s not convenient timing?”

I nod. “He’s right, Scott. It can’t be a coincidence that Deaton _somehow_ breaks out of his restraints, then the car, without me or Derek noticing, and then the alpha just shows up.”

Scott still is not convinced. “Not him!”

“He killed Derek,” I say bluntly.

“No, Derek’s not dead. He can’t be dead.”

“Look, blood literally came out of his fucking mouth. That isn’t exactly a small thing, okay?”

“She’s right,” Stiles says. “He’s dead, and we’re next.”

Scott sighs, but doesn’t continue the argument. “Okay, just- what do we do?”

Stiles takes a calming breath, his gaze moving between mine and Scott’s terrified faces, and says definitively, “We get to my Jeep, we get out of here, Scott, you seriously think about quitting your job, good?” Scott and I both nod, and Stiles grabs the flashlight as all of us move to the window. Scott attempts to open one, but Stiles stops him. “No, they don’t open. The school’s climate-controlled.”

“Then we break it,” Scott suggests.

“Which would make a lot of noise.”

Scott sighs. “Then, we run really fast.” He moves his gaze out to Stiles’s Jeep, then back to us. “Really fast.”

“That is not going to work,” I start to say, but Scott interrupts me.

“Stiles, what’s wrong with the hood of your Jeep?”

Stiles throws a confused look over to Scott. “What do you mean? Nothing’s wrong."

“It’s bent,” Scott elaborates.

“Dented?” Stiles steps forward to look over Scott’s shoulder at his car, and I move to one of the other windows to Stiles’s left to see.

“No, I mean bent,” Scott whispers incredulously.

Looking out the window, I gasp, taking in the hood of Stiles’s car, all bent at a weird angle. “What the fuck-” I start to ask, but am interrupted by the shattering of glass right next to me. I scream as Stiles grabs me and pulls me down, his arms going over my head to shield me from the glass raining down on the three of us. As it stops, we look in front of us to see a black box with wires sticking out of it.

“Is that your battery?” I whisper to Stiles in surprise. He nods, a look of disbelief on his face.

“ _We’re fucked_ ,” I think as I take in the claw marks on the battery.

Stiles goes to get up, but I quickly pull him back down. “We have to move,” Stiles insists.

“He could be right outside,” Scott whispers.

“He _is_ right outside,” Stiles says bluntly.

“Just let me take a look.” We all peer carefully out the window. I’m tense, ready to run at a moment’s notice. Stiles doesn’t let go of my hand.

“Anything?” Stiles asks, and Scott shakes his head. “No.”

“Move now?” I ask, my voice small.

“Move now,” Scott confirms. We walk out into the hallway, and Scott turns to the right. “This way.” He starts walking down the hall, but Stiles pulls him back.

“No, no, no, no,” he says, gripping Scott’s shoulder.

“What?”

“Somewhere without windows.”

Scott looks at him, exasperated. “Every single room in the building has windows.”

“Or somewhere with _less_ windows,” Stiles relents.

“The locker room,” I suggest. I realize I am still holding Stiles’s hand, and quickly pull away. Under normal circumstances, I would be embarrassed, but these are not normal circumstances.

“Yeah,” Stiles says, not seeming to notice, already turned and headed to the locker room.

As soon as we shut the door, Scott turns to us and says, “Call your dad and brother.”

“And tell them what, exactly?” I question.

“I don’t know- anything. Gas leak, a fire, whatever. If that thing sees the parking lot filled with cop cars, it will take off.”

I nod, thinking that makes sense, and take out my cell phone.

“What if it doesn’t?” Stiles demands, stopping my movements. “What if it goes completely Terminator and kills every cop in sight, including my dad and Viv’s brother?”

I realize Stiles is right, and put my phone back in my pocket. “Yeah, I don’t want my brother killed by a mini Godzilla.”

“They have guns,” Scott insists.

I roll my eyes at him. “Which don’t really work on werewolves, remember? Derek had to be shot with a wolfsbane laced bullet to even slow him down.”

Scott nods, that bit of information sinking in. “Then we... we have to...” He sighs, shaking his head to try and formulate a plan. “We have to find a way out and just run for it.”

“There’s nothing near the school for at least a mile,” Stiles says, shooting down that idea.

“I will run that mile, considering what’s happening right now,” I chime in.

“What about Derek’s car?” Scott suggests.

Stiles nods, a hopeful look on his face. “That could work. We go outside, we get the keys off his body- ugh- then we take his car.”

“And him,” Scott insists.

“We’ll do that as long as I don’t have to sit in the back with the body,” I say. As we all walk toward the door, neither of them say anything. “I’m not going to be in the back seat with the body, right?” Still silence as Stiles reaches for the door handle. “Guys? Right?”

Suddenly, Scott grabs Stiles’s hand. “What?” Stiles asks softly.

“I think I heard something,” Scott whispers, and fear fills my mind once more.

“Like what?” Stiles demands.

“Shh, quiet,” Scott says frantically. We hear footsteps coming from behind the door, and Stiles pushes me behind him as we back up, Scott turning the flashlight around in Stiles’s hand so the light is not pointed at the door. “Hide.”

“Where the fuck do we hide?” I question, my voice barely above a whisper.

Stiles suddenly turns toward a locker, grappling with the door and making a shit ton of noise. Once it’s open, he pulls me inside the locker with him, shutting the door as far as it will go. I have to be honest, I did not expect that. Through the door, we can hear Scott’s exasperated whisper, “No, no, Stiles. No.”

The locker we are in was definitely not made to hold a person, let alone two people, and Stiles and I are smushed together. I’m pretty sure this is the closest we’ve ever been.

I take a deep breath trying to focus. What would happen if the alpha hears us and comes into the locker room? What if one of us gets hurt? I try to make a plan, and ignore how close Stiles and I are. I try to ignore his tight grip on my hand, and how it is strangely comforting, even in this situation, and how good he smells. Wait what? No, no, not thinking about that. Especially not now. I push the thought from my mind, chalking it up to adrenaline and fear.

Just then, I hear the locker room door open, and Stiles tightens his hold on my hand as I cover my mouth with my free hand to keep from screaming. After a moment, we hear a locker open, and a scream rips through the air, and suddenly Stiles and I are stumbling out of our own locker. “Son of a bitch!” A voice yells as I regain my footing, and I realize it isn’t the alpha in the locker room, but the janitor. I breathe a sigh of relief.

“Quiet!” Scott urges.

“Quiet my ass, what the hell are you trying to do, kill me?” The janitor loudly rushes out in one breath, trying to calm himself. “All of you, get out.”

“Just listen for half a second, okay?” Stiles insists.

“Not okay,” he glares, pushing us toward the door. “Get the hell out of here right now.”

As we are shoved out into the hallway, Stiles tries again. “God, just one second to explain.”

“Just shut up, and go,” the janitor orders, pointing down the hallway. He doesn’t get to say anything else before he is yanked through the door, screaming. The door shuts, so we can’t see anything happening to him through the frosted window, but we can still see his shadow as he is pushed against the door, blood smearing the glass.

I yelp as we all jump back, eyes wide. The janitor continues to scream, and I can hear the alpha growling. Scott attempts to open the door, but Stiles pulls him back, “No, no.” He grabs my arm, and we all take off in a dead sprint down the hall, snarls and screams following us the whole way.

* * *

We reach a set of double doors leading to outside, but no matter how hard we try, they won’t open. “What the hell?” Stiles asks. I back up, panting. Scott manages to crack the door open wide enough to fit his head through.

“It’s a dumpster,” he says.

“He pushed it in front of the door,” Stiles realizes. “To block us in.”

“Great,” I say sarcastically. “We have to find another way out of here, then.”

Ignoring me, Stiles throws himself against the doors, but they won’t budge. “Come on, help me,” he says to us.

I grab his shoulder. “Stiles. Stiles, stop.”

He shakes my hand off, but Scott picks Stiles up and sets him down away from the doors. “Stop!” He finally gives up, and we continue a fast walk down a different hallway.

“I am not dying here,” I announce definitively. “I am not dying at a fucking high school, where we have to climb the fucking rope in gym class.”

“We’re not going to die,” Scott insists.

“Are you sure?” I question. “Because it seems like that thing wants to kill us.”

“God, what is he doing?” Stiles asks, tossing his arms in the air. “What does he want?”

“Me,” Scott answers. “Derek says it’s stronger with a pack.”

“Oh, great, a killing machine into team sports,” I say. “Are there jerseys? Do you go to a meet every Saturday?” Stiles tosses me a grim smile.

I catch a glimpse out the window and hit Stiles’s chest, stopping his movements. He looks at me, confused. “Viv-”

“Look,” I say, and both of them follow my gaze out the window, where we see a large black form with glowing red eyes. Once it realizes it’s looking at us, it starts running across the roof toward us. Stiles places a hand on my back, pushing me in front of him as we take off down the hall. We only glance back when we hear glass shatter, revealing the alpha to be right behind us and put on an extra burst of speed. I shove the door to our right open, leading to the stairwell, and we race down that, praying to God that none of us fall, before going through the door leading to the first floor.

* * *

We keep running down stairwells, finally finding a room on a lower level to hide in. We press ourselves against a row of dilapidated lockers, breathing hard. We hear soft growling, and Scott glances cautiously around the corner. I look at Scott, who is to my right- Stiles is to my left, so I am sandwiched between the boys- and mouth “What?”

Scott juts his chin out to my left, and whispers, “Go.” Needing no encouragement, Stiles grabs my hand and pulls me along down the hallway. As we are about to go through a doorway, we hear a growl and quickly backtrack. “All right, we have to do something?”

“Like what?” I ask, my voice shaking.

“I don’t know. Kill it, hurt it, inflict mental anguish on it- something.” We all jump as we hear glass shattering to our right, then distant growling. Stiles puts his hand in his pocket, grabbing at his keys.

“Wait a minute, no, what-” Scott asks but Stiles shushes him, jangling his keys, then throws them to the side. As soon as they land, he pushes both of us back as the alpha shoots through the doorway Stiles’s keys are. Once he is in, Stiles hastily slams the door, shouting, “The desk. Come on, the desk.” Scott and I each grab a side of the desk and slam it into the door quickly.

The alpha bashes himself against the door, but with the desk there, it is harder for him to get out. “Come on, get across,” Stiles tells Scott and I. Without hesitation, I clamber over the desk. Once I am closer to Stiles, he holds out a hand, and I take it, letting him help me get down as Scott scrambles across.

We press ourselves up against the wall as Stiles peers around the corner. “What the hell are you doing?” I whisper yell, catching Scott’s attention.

“I just want to get a look at it,” Stiles says.

“Are you fucking crazy? I’ll tell you what it looks like: one of those hellhounds you see in a Greek myth book, with glowing red stoplight eyes to match.”

“Look, it’s trapped, okay? It’s not gonna get out.” I’m sure he thinks he’s reassuring Scott and I, but I don’t waver, and one look at Scott tells me he’s not too sold on the idea either. But neither of us say anything, and Stiles climbs onto the desk to get a closer look. He shines the light through the window, and mutters, “Yeah, that’s right, we got you-”

“Shut up,” Scott whisper-yells.

“I’m not scared of this thing,” Stiles says.

Shooting him an incredulous look, I breathe, “Well, I am!”

With that, the alpha growls loudly, and Stiles jerks back, falling off the desk. “I’m not scared of you,” Stiles continues to yell at it.

“Oh my God, shut up,” I say, hitting Stiles’s arm.

Acknowledging my sentence with a hand on my shoulder, he continues, “Right, ‘cause you’re in there, and we’re out here. You’re not going any-” Suddenly, we hear crashing, and see stuff fall from the ceiling in the other room. Did he...?

Scuffling from up above us confirms it. Yes, he did. The metal vents above us creak and dent. “Oh, fuck-” I manage before Stiles grabs my arm, pulling me along with him and Scott the opposite way down the hall.

* * *

“Wait, did you hear that?” Scott asks as we make our way down another hallway.

“Hear what?” Stiles asks as we stop.

“It sounds like a phone ringing.”

“What?”

“I know that ring,” Scott continues. A look of horror appears on his face as he realizes. “It’s Allison’s phone.”

* * *

Scott has commandeered Stiles’s phone and puts it on speaker. _“Stiles?”_ She asks.

“It’s me,” Scott says, before she even gets the word out. “Where are you?”

_“I’m in the school looking for you, why weren’t you at my place?”_

Ignoring her question, Scott repeats his own. “Where are you right now?”

 _“On the first floor.”_ Her voice grows more confused.

“Where? Where are you exactly?” Scott presses.

_“The swimming pools.”_

“Get to the lobby,” Scott tells her. “Go, now.” He hangs up the phone and hands it back to Stiles before she can even answer.

* * *

We burst through the doors of the lobby at the same time as Allison. As soon as he sees her, Scott asks her, “Why did you come? What are you doing here?”

No less confused than before, Allison flicks her eyes toward me before focusing back on Scott. “Because you asked me to.”

Scott furrows his eyebrows. “I asked you to?”

Allison pulls up a message on her phone and shows it to Scott, who looks between her and the message, confused. “Why do I get the feeling you didn’t send this message?” She asks.

“Because I didn’t.”

Before they can continue, Stiles cuts in. “Did you drive here?”

“Jackson did,” Allison answers.

“Jackson’s here, too?” I ask. Great. Not only am I dying in a high school, but I am going to do it with the biggest dick _in_ the high school.

“And Lydia. What’s going on? Who sent this text?” Just then, her phone rings and she answers it. “Where are you?” The door opens, and we all jump in surprise, turning to see Lydia and Jackson.

“Finally,” Lydia says, her and Jackson joining us. “Can we go now?”

Allison nods, and we start to step toward the door when a thump above us. On instinct, I move closer to Stiles and he squeezes my hand. Scott, Stiles, and I all exchange a look, knowing what is about to happen. Scott yells, “Run!” and we all take off up the stairs as the alpha crashes through the vents and onto the floor.

I hear growling behind us and I put on an extra burst of speed. Damn, all this running for my life crap is going to get me into such good shape. We burst through a pair of double doors and into the cafeteria. “Help me get this in front of the door,” Scott says, and the group starts stacking desks as Stiles and I take note of the large row of windows.

“Scott, wait, not here,” Stiles says.

“Scott what was that?” Allison demands.

“What came out of the ceiling?” Lydia asks frantically.

“Just help me,” Scott says. “The chairs, stack the chairs.”

“Guys, wait a minute,” I say, but they don’t hear me. “Guys, listen.”

“Can we just wait a second?” Stiles tries, but they still ignore him. “You guys, listen to me, w- Guys. Stiles talking. Can we hang on one second please?”

“Hello!” I shout, and everyone finally turns to Stiles and I. “Thank you. Great job, everybody. Really, just amazing. Now, what are we going to do about the twenty feet of windows?” I gesture to the wall of glass right next to us like I am a game show host, and everyone sighs.

Allison, looking like she is about to have a break down, turns to Scott and says, “Can someone please explain to me what’s going on, because I am freaking out here, and I would like to know why. Scott?”

Instead of answering, Scott moves over to a table near Stiles and I, rubbing his face. It’s obvious he doesn’t know what to say. Neither do I. Stiles steps forward and says, “Somebody killed the janitor.”

“What?” Lydia asks, her voice high.

“Yeah, the janitor’s dead.”

Not believing us, Allison starts to laugh a little. “What’s he talking about? Is this a joke?” She asks, her gaze moving from the two of us to Scott.

“Who killed him?” Jackson demands.

“No, no, no, no,” Lydia mutters. “This was supposed to be over. The mountain lion killed-”

“Don’t you get it?” Jackson turns on Lydia. “It wasn’t a mountain lion.”

“Who was it?” Allison all but shrieks. “What does he want? What’s happening? Scott!”

Jumping, he stammers out, “I- I don’t know! I- I just- if we go out there, he’s gonna kill us!”

“Us?” Lydia asks, clutching Jackson’s arm. “He’s gonna kill _us_?”

“Who?” Allison demands, her patience long gone. “ _Who_ is it?”

I am about to say that I don’t know, but Scott speaks over me. “It’s Derek. It’s Derek Hale.”

Stiles looks over at Scott, his mouth falling open, and I facepalm. Great job, Scott.

“Wait- Derek killed the janitor?” Jackson asks, looking unconvinced.

“Are you sure?” Allison is freaking more by the second.

“I saw him,” Scott confirms. Oh my God, Scott, stop talking.

“The mountain lion-” Lydia starts, looking scared out of her mind, and I can tell it’s not just about being trapped in the school with a murdering psychopath, but I know she is thinking about that night at the video store.

“No, Derek killed him!” Scott yells, interrupting her.

“All of them?” Allison asks.

“Yeah, starting with his own sister.”

“The bus driver?” Allison whispers.

“And the guy at the video store,” Scott continues for her. Allison rubs her head, her, Lydia, and Jackson still in a state of disbelief. Stiles and I are, too, but for a different reason. Scott maintains that it was Derek killing people, even though it wasn’t. “It’s been Derek the whole time. He’s in here with us.” He turns to face all of us. “And if we don’t get out now, he’s going to kill us, too.”

“Call the cops,” Jackson says.

“No,” Stiles says immediately.

“W-what do you mean ‘no’?” Jackson demands.

“I mean no, you wanna hear it in Spanish? _No_.” I snort a little through my nose at that. “Look, Derek killed three people, okay? We don’t know what he’s armed with.”

Jackson raises a hand toward Stiles. “Your dad is armed with an entire sheriff’s department, including Vivian’s brother. Call him.”

“I’m calling,” Lydia says, already dialing the number.

Knowing that if Lydia calls nine-one-one, my brother would show up, and the alpha would kill him given the chance, I start to move toward her. “Lydia just hold on a second.” Before I can reach her, Jackson is in my path and pushes me back. It wasn’t very hard, but I wasn’t expecting it, and I stumble a little. Stiles catches me, tossing an indignant, “Hey” toward Jackson. Scott walks up to both of us, placing a hand on my shoulder, Stiles gripping my other one, all three of us glaring at Jackson.

“Yes, we’re at Beacon Hills High School,” Lydia was saying into her phone. “We’re trapped, and we need you to- But-” Suddenly, she stops and looks at her phone incredulously. “She hung up on me.”

“The police hung up on you?” Allison asks, disbelieving.

“She said they got a tip warning them that there are gonna be prank calls about a break-in at the high school,” Lydia continues. “She said if I called again that they’re gonna trace it and have me arrested.”

“Okay, then call again!”

Stiles shakes his head. “No, they won’t trace a cell. Then they’ll send a car to your house before they send anyone here.”

“What the- what- what is this?” Allison stammers, putting her head in her hands. “Why does Derek want to kill us?” She throws her arms out to her sides. “Why is he killing anyone?”

I exchange a glance with Stiles before we both look over at Scott. Allison, Lydia, and Jackson do so as well. “Why’s everyone looking at me?” Scott questions. I mean, by accusing Derek, you brought this on yourself, dude.

“Is he the one that sent her the text?” Lydia asks.

“No,” Scott says. “I mean, I don’t know.”

“Is he the one that called the police?” Allison asks.

“I don’t know!” Scott yells, and Allison jerks back at his volume, turning away from the group.

“All right, why don’t we ease back on the throttle here, yeah?” Stiles says, and leads Scott and I out of earshot of the rest of the group. “Okay, first off, throwing Derek under the bus, nicely done.”

“I didn’t know what to say,” Scott says. “I had to say something. And if he’s dead, then it doesn’t matter, right? Except if he’s not.” He sighs. “Oh, God, I totally just bit her head off.”

“Yes, you did,” I whisper.

“And she’ll totally get over it,” Stiles says. “Bigger issues at hand here, like how do we get out alive?”

“But we are alive,” Scott says, eyes wide. “It could have killed us already. It’s like it’s cornering us or something.”

“So, what, he wants to eat us all at the same time?”

“No! Derek says it wants revenge.”

“Against who?” I ask. “Allison’s family? Maybe that’s what the text was about. Someone had to send it. Derek said that the Argents were the ones who burned down his family home. What if they did the same with another werewolf family, and a survivor wants revenge?”

Before Scott or Stiles can respond, Jackson’s voice broke through our conversation. “Okay, assheads.” Real nice, Jackson. “New plan. Stiles calls his useless dad and tells him to send someone with a gun and decent aim. Are we good with that?”

“How about I punch you in the face? Are _you_ good with _that_?” I say. Jackson looks taken aback, but doesn’t say anything.

Stiles and I exchange a look, hesitating. We know that if his dad shows up, my brother will, too, and they _will_ get hurt, and neither of us want that to happen.

“He’s right,” Scott tells Stiles. “Tell him the truth if you have to, just- just call them.”

Stiles shakes his head, staring at Scott. “I am not watching my dad get eaten alive, ” he says.

Scott moves his eyes to me. I shake my head. “I’m not watching a dickhead werewolf from hell kill my brother,” I say, my voice cracking. Stiles puts an arm around my shoulders. He looks back at Jackson and shakes his head.

With that, Jackson moves forward. “All right, give me the phone.” He grabs Stiles’s shoulder, yanking him back, causing me to stumble, Scott reaching for my arm to stable me. Once I regain my footing, I shoot forward and punch Jackson in the nose, effectively separating him from Stiles.

“Jackson!” Allison shouts in surprise as Jackson falls to the ground, clutching his nose. Immediately, Stiles is at my side, a hand on my shoulder as I clutch my fist in my hand. Man, punching someone hurts. I am taken aback by Allison being the one to kneel beside Jackson, and not Lydia.

“You okay?” Stiles asks me, his eyes filled with worry.

I nod. “You?” He nods, squeezing my shoulder comfortingly as I flex my fingers to work through the pain.

Stiles takes out his phone, and I stare at him, eyes wide. He nods reassuringly before dialing his father’s number. “Dad, hey, it’s me. And it’s your voicemail. Look, I need you to call me back, now. Like, right now.” A loud bang on the door interrupts Stiles, causing him to step in front of me as we all back up together as a group. “We’re at the school,” Stiles continues into his phone. “Dad, we’re at the school.” He hangs up and puts his phone in his pocket as the banging on the doors gets louder.

“Oh, my God,” Lydia yelps, hiding behind Jackson’s shoulder.

“The kitchen-” Stiles says. “The door out of the kitchen leads to the stairwell.”

“Which only goes up,” Scott points out.

“Up is a hell of a lot better than here at this point,” I say, clutching Stiles’s arm like it’s a lifeline. I notice the screws begin to fall out of the hinges, and my eyes widen. We all silently agree, turning and sprinting toward the stairs. We get to the second floor and enter the first unlocked classroom we see, which happens to be the science lab. Scott shuts the door and shoves a chair beneath the door handle to lock it in place.

Stiles grabs Scott’s shoulder to keep him from moving, and Lydia covers her mouth to suppress a scream as growling comes closer and a shadow passes next to us. The shadow disappears, and we all breathe a sigh in relief.

“Jackson, how many people can fit in your car?” Scott asks.

“Five, maybe six if someone squeezes in someone’s lap,” Jackson answers. I will sit in the trunk if I have to, as long as we get the hell out here.

Allison shoots Jackson an incredulous look. “Five? _I_ barely fit in the back.”

“It doesn’t matter,” Stiles says. “There’s no getting out without drawing attention.”

I notice a door on the opposite side of the classroom. “What about this?” Scott says, walking over to it, Scott and Stiles following me. “This leads to the roof, and we can go down the fire escape from there.”

“That’s a deadbolt,” Stiles points out. I nod, realizing there is no way to get outside before Scott perks up.

“The janitor has the key,” he says.

“You mean his body has it,” I counter.

“I can get it,” Scott decides.

“Okay, yeah, you are definitely crazy,” I say, Stiles nodding along with me.

“I can find him by scent, by blood,” Scott insists.

“Well, gee, that sounds like an incredibly terrible idea, what else you got?” Stiles asks in one breath.

“I’m getting the key,” Scott says, totally ignoring our ‘what the fuck are you thinking?’ faces, and steps around us.

“Are you serious?” Allison whispers to him.

“Well, it’s the best plan,” he continues. “Someone has to get the key if we wanna get out of here.”

“You can’t go out there unarmed,” Allison insists. Realizing she’s right, Scott looks around the room for a suitable weapon, settling on the pointer with a plastic hand attached.

“Are you fucking kidding me?” I deadpan as Scott waves the flimsy thing around.

Stiles rolls his eyes hard as Scott says, “Well, it’s better than nothing.”

“ _The Order of the Phoenix_ would be a better weapon than a classroom pointer,” I point out.

“Can you keep your nerd references to yourself?” Jackson groans.

“Can you keep your rude comments to yourself?” I shoot back.

“There’s gotta be something else,” Stiles says, getting us back on track.

“There is,” Lydia chimes in, eyeing the chemical cabinet.

“What are we gonna do? Throw acid on him?” Stiles asks in disbelief.

“I’m down with that,” I say.

“No,” Lydia answers. “Like a fire bomb.”

My eyebrows shoot up in hope as I realize what she is talking about. “In there we have everything we need to make a self igniting Molotov cocktail,” I say.

Stiles’s eyes flick back and forth between Lydia and I. “Self- igniting,” he stammers.

“Molotov cocktail,” I say, slower for him like I’m speaking to a kid.

The rest of the group looks at us with a ‘what the hell are you two talking about?’ look on their faces.

“What?” Lydia asks. “I read it somewhere.”

Their eyes move to me. I shrug. “My mom was a big chemistry nerd. She taught me a lot of stuff Dad didn’t want my siblings and I knowing at our ages.”

“We don’t have a key for that, either,” Stiles points out, and everyone sighs in defeat.

Rolling my eyes with a huff, I step toward the cabinet, turn so my back is facing it, and elbow the glass hard, shattering it. Everyone stares at me in shock, though there is an impressed look mixed in on Stiles’s face. I shrug again. “What?”

* * *

Soon, I am hard at work, mixing ingredients together. My brows are furrowed and I am biting my bottom lip in concentration. Honestly, I don’t think I have focused this hard on anything in my life.

“Someone hand me the sulfuric acid, please,” I say glancing at the beaker I need at the other end of the table. Jackson reaches for it and hands it to me. Muttering a, “Thanks,” I pour the amount I need into a funnel, cork it, then swirl it around so the acid mixes with the other ingredients.

As I hand the finished product to Scott, Allison shakes her head, waving her hands in front of her. “No. No, this is insane, you can’t do this. You cannot go out there.”

“We can’t just sit here waiting for Stiles’s dad to check his messages,” Scott counters, leaning across the table.

“You could die. Don’t you get that? He’s killed three people.”

“And we’re next,” Scott says, a sad expression on his face. Allison sighs, and Scott continues, “Somebody has to do something.” He starts to walk away, but Allison stops him again.

“Scott, just stop.” Her voice is wavering from unshed tears. “Do you remember- do you remember when you told me you knew whether or not I was lying? That I had a tell. So do you. You’re a horrible liar- and you’ve been lying all night.” I see Jackson smirking at Allison’s words. Dick.

“Just- just please- please don’t go,” Allison begs. I move back around the table to stand near Stiles again, and he immediately takes my hand. “Please don’t leave us. Please.” Scott looks down, and I can tell he is actually considering it before he looks back at Stiles and I and says, “Lock it behind me.”

He goes to walk toward the door again, but Allison reaches out for him, bringing him closer to her, and presses her lips against his. I close my eyes, trying not to think about how this may be the last time we see Scott. I have faith in him that he can do this, but I also know that the alpha is incredibly dangerous.

The door opens and closes, and I open my eyes, knowing Scott is already out the door. Stiles squeezes my hand before going to lock the door. I move over to Allison’s side and put a comforting arm around her.

* * *

It’s been about twenty minutes and we have all moved from our previous positions to gathered around one table, which Allison is sitting on, her folded hands holding up her chin. I am leaning against the wall, holding Stiles’s hand once more. I realize I am doing a lot of hand holding with Stiles tonight. Normally, I would let go, but it is comforting, and so I don’t let go.

“I don’t get this,” Allison says, shaking her head, looking at each of us. “I don’t get why he’s out there, and why he left us. And I can’t-” She looks down at her hands. “I can’t stop my hands from shaking.”

I step forward to try and comfort her, but Jackson gets there first, putting his hands over Allison’s. “It’s okay,” he says. “It’s okay. It’s gonna be okay.” I narrow my eyes at him. One, she has a boyfriend, buddy. Two, you have a girlfriend. Three, your girlfriend is _standing right next to you_. Seeing the discomfort on Lydia’s face, I move to stand next to her, entwining my hand in hers.

She sends me a thankful glance before looking at the chemical jars on the table. “Jackson, you handed Vivian the sulfuric acid, right?” She asks. “It has to be sulfuric acid. It won’t ignite if it’s not.”

“I gave her exactly what she asked for didn’t I?” Jackson asks. Really? First you comfort another guy’s girlfriend in front of your own, then have the nerve to snap at her, like it’s her fault? Nuh uh, buddy.

Lydia sends him a confused look. “Yeah. Yeah, I’m sure you did.” I squeeze her hand, and she squeezes back as we all look at the container, praying to any god that exists that we sent Scott out with the right thing.

* * *

A few minutes later, Jackson cries out and collapses on the ground, screaming in pain. I jump back as Lydia and Allison grab his arms, standing him up again. Stiles moves to my side again. “Ugh, I’m fine,” he says, holding his neck. I didn’t get a good look before, but were those claw marks? Where the fuck did he get those? His voice returns to normal as he insists, “Seriously, I’m okay.”

“That didn’t sound okay at all,” Allison says.

“What’s on the back of your neck?” I ask.

“What are you talking about?” Jackson demands with a glare.

“There are these weird marks on your neck and I’m just curious as to what they are,” I respond with my own glare.

Lydia moves behind Jackson to look at them. “Do they hurt?” She asks, reaching out to touch his neck, but Jackson pushes her hand away, causing her to jerk back.

“Why do you care?” He snaps.

My glare deepens as Lydia steps back to where she was previously, and I wrap an arm around her shoulders. I may not have been friends with Lydia for very long, but I will always side with her over the dick that’s yelling at her for no reason right now. Honestly, is he just asking to get punched again?

“All right, can we not argue for half a second here?” Stiles asks, trying to calm everyone down.

“Where’s Scott?” Allison asks, running a hand through her hair. “He should be back by now.”

Suddenly, we hear a click and whip around toward the door. “Scott!” Allison shouts, trying to wrestle open the door. “Scott!”

“Where is he going?” I ask, letting go of Lydia and moving back toward Stiles.

“Scott!” Allison continues, grappling with the door handle. “Scott- Scott!”

“Stop,” Lydia says. “Stop!” This startles Allison out of her stupor. “Do you hear that?” I listen hard, and hear sirens in the distance. I close my eyes, letting out a breath, and Stiles places a hand on my arm, equally as relieved. We all run toward the window, and look out at the gloriousness of the red and blue lights approaching the school parking lot.

I smile, a shaky chuckle escaping. I don’t think I have ever seen something so beautiful.

* * *

“You sure it was Derek Hale?” Noah asks as he and Griffin lead Scott, Stiles, and I outside.

“Yes,” Scott says.

“I saw him, too,” Stiles confirms.

“What about the janitor?” I ask, avoiding the question altogether. I still wasn’t sure why Scott had to throw Derek under the bus.

“We’re still looking,” Griffin says.

“Did you check under the bleachers?” Scott asks. “Under them.”

“Yes, Scott, we looked,” Noah snaps. “We pulled them out just like you asked. There’s nothing.”

“I’m not making this up,” Scott insists.

“I know, I believe you, I do,” Noah assures him.

Scott shakes his head as we stop at the bottom of the school steps. “No you don’t!” He switches his gaze from Noah to my brother and back again. “You both have this look like you feel bad for me. Like you wanna believe me, but I know you don’t.”

After a moment of silence, my brother speaks again. “Listen, guys, we’re going to search this whole school. We are going to find him. Okay? I promise.”

Before Scott can respond, one of the deputies called for Noah. Before leaving, he turns to my brother and says, “Griffin, why don’t you take Viv home?”

“You won’t need me here?” Griffin questions. Noah takes one look at my tired and overwhelmed face and repeats, “Go on home.” To Scott and Stiles he says, “Stay. Both of you,” before walking away.

I turn to my father. “Griff, can I just...” I trail off, glancing at Scott and Stiles.

Griffin looks from me to my friends. “I’ll be in the car.” After he walks away, Stiles turns to Scott and I.

“Well, we survived,” he says, leaning against the railing. “You know? We outlasted the alpha. It’s still good, right, being alive?”

“When we were in the chemistry room, he walked right by us,” Scott says. “You don’t think that it heard us? You don’t think it knew exactly where we were?"

“Well, then how come we’re still alive?” Stiles asks, shaking his head.

“Maybe it wants us alive for some reason?” I guess.

“It wants me in its pack,” Scott says. He sighs, waiting for a couple of deputies to walk by before continuing. “But I think first... I have to get rid of my old pack.”

Stiles crosses his arms. “What do you mean? What old pack?”

I swallow hard. “He means us,” I say.

Scott nods at my answer. “Allison. Jackson, Lydia. The two of you.”

Stiles looks toward the school as he realizes, “The alpha doesn’t want to kill us.”

My voice shaking, I finish, “It wants you to do it.”

Turning away from us, Scott continues. “And that’s not even the worst part.”

I narrow my eyes, crossing my arms. “I’m sorry, how in the _fuck_ is that not the worst part, Scott?” I demand, sharing an incredulous look with Stiles.

“Because when he made me shift... I wanted to do it,” Scott answers, turning back to face us. “I wanted to kill you. All of you.”

Scott looks over my shoulder and narrows his eyes, then walks over to an ambulance. Stiles and I follow, and my eyebrows shoot up in question at the sight of Deaton sitting calmly in the doorway of the vehicle. “There you are,” Deaton says.

“How-? How did you-?” Scott trails off.

“Get out?” Deaton finishes. He shakes his head. “Not easily. And from what they tell me, I’m alive because of you. I think I owe you a raise.”

Suddenly, Noah walks up behind us and puts a hand on Stiles’s shoulder. “Guys, come on, let’s let the EMTs do their job. You can talk to him later,” he says, leading us away. “Viv, your brother is waiting for you in the car.” I nod, and he steps away once more.

As he fades from view, I turn back toward my friends. I wrap my arms around Scott first. “Thanks for not getting us killed,” I say, and he lets out a quiet chuckle. I let go and then wrap Stiles in a hug. He squeezes me tight, and while neither of us say anything, everything is conveyed in that hug. I know that I would never have been able to survive the night without Stiles beside me. Eventually, I let go. “I’ll see you guys soon,” I whisper, and walk off to find my brother.


	8. Lunatic

_3rd POV_

A few days after the horror movie that was getting trapped in the school by the alpha, Scott and Stiles head down a muddy path, stepping over puddles. Vivian stayed home that night at the request of her brother, and she happily obliged. What happened at the school freaked her out enough that she isn’t sure she wants to leave the house ever again.

Finally, Scott breaks the silence between him and Stiles. “Where are we going?” He asks as they pass a cabin.

“You’ll see,” Stiles responds cryptically.

Scott looks around at the trees uneasily. “‘Cause we really shouldn’t be out here. My mom is in a constant state of freak out from what happened at the school.”

“Well, your mom isn’t the sheriff,” Stiles says, tossing a glance back at Scott, “Okay? There’s no comparison, trust me.”

“Can you at least just tell me what we’re doing out here?” Scott asks, shaking his head and throwing his hands out to his sides.

“Yes,” Stiles sighs. “When your best friend gets dumped-”

“I didn’t get dumped,” Scott quickly corrects. “We’re taking a break.”

“Alright, well, when your best friend gets told by his girlfriend that they’re taking a break-” Stiles stops and turns toward his friend. “You get your best friend drunk.” With that, he reaches into his bag and pulls out a bottle of Jack Daniels whiskey.

A little while later, a bonfire is lit and half the bottle of Jack is gone- mostly due to Stiles, it seems.

He slams the bottle on the ground and collapses on his back next to it. Though it doesn’t shatter, the sound gains the attention of Scott, who moves his gaze down to his friend.

“Dude, you know, she’s just one… one girl,” Stiles slurs. “You know, there are so many- there are so many other girls in the sea.”

“Fish in the sea,” Scott corrects. He smiles, slightly amused at the sight of his drunk friend.

“Fish? Why you talking about fish? I’m talking about girls.” He lets out a dreamy sigh. “I love girls. I love ‘em. I love especially ones with light blonde hair, the most vibrant blue eyes, five foot nine-”

“I don’t think Lydia has blue eyes,” Scott says, deciding to play along, even though he knows Stiles is talking about someone else.

Stiles makes a face. “I know she doesn’t, I was talking about… about- what was I talking about?” He finishes, a drunken smile growing on his face.

He tilts his head back to Scott, and the smile disappears as he sees the glum expression Scott wears. “Hey, you’re not happy. Take a drink.” He taps Scott’s leg, and starts to sit up, reaching for the bottle.

“I don’t want any more,” Scott says, shaking his head.

“You’re not drunk?” Stiles asks, laying back down.

“I’m not anything,” he grumbles, staring at the fire.

“Hey, maybe it’s like… maybe it’s like not needing your inhaler anymore, you know? Maybe you can’t get drunk… as a wolf. Am I drunk?”

Scott looks down at Stiles and shakes his head. “You’re wasted.”

“Yeah!” Stiles cheers, tossing his fist in the air for a fist bump. When Scott doesn’t oblige, he drops his arm. “Oh, come on, dude, I know it feels bad. I know it hurts. I know. Well, I don’t know.” He chuckles before continuing, “But I know this. I know that as much as being broken up hurts, being alone is way worse.” He pauses. “That didn’t make any sense… I need a drink.”

He sits up and reaches for the bottle, but it is snatched away before his fingers can close around it. “Well, look at the two little bitches getting their drink on.” Both boys look up to see a pair of guys standing in front of them.

“Give it back,” Scott demands, glaring at the men and managing to sound somewhat intimidating.

The guy who took the bottle drops the calm grin. “What’s that little man?”

“I think he wants a drink,” the other guy says.

“I want the bottle,” Scott corrects.

“Scott, maybe we should just go,” Stiles suggests, realizing even in his drunken state this is not a situation they should be in, and starts to sit up.

“You brought me here to get me drunk, Stiles. I’m not drunk yet.”

The two guys scoff at each other, thinking that these kids can’t do anything, and the first guy takes a drink from the bottle. Scott stands up and comes face to face with him. “Give me the bottle,” he demands. The guy shakes his head, smirking slightly. “Give me the bottle of Jack.”

As Scott’s eyes start to glow gold, Stiles notices the claws growing from his friend’s hands. “Scott?”

Suddenly alarmed by this turn of events, the guy hands the bottle back to Scott without a word. He whips it against a nearby tree, shattering the glass and spilling alcohol all over the ground, and sending both guys sprinting in the direction they came.

As Scott and Stiles head back toward the car, Stiles says, “Okay, please tell me that was because of the breakup. Or ‘cause tomorrow’s the full moon.” Wordlessly, Scott opens the passenger side door for Stiles. “Going home now, yeah?” Scott nods, and Stiles falls into the seat.

Scott looks around the campsite once before getting into the driver's seat and taking them home.

* * *

_Vivian’s POV_

“Viv, time to get a move on, ” A voice from the other side of my door calls. I open the door to my bedroom and Griffin walks in, already in his deputy’s uniform. When he sees that I’m already awake and dressed, he says, “You’re up early.”

I nod, checking my bag to make sure it’s packed with everything I need. “Yeah, I couldn’t really sleep. Figured I might as well get up and start getting ready.” I zip my backpack shut and toss my leather jacket over my gray knit sweater, and a red and black plaid skirt. I pull on my combat boots over my plain black tights.

“You know, you could stay home for another day if you want,” Griffin says.

I shake my head. “I don’t want to fall behind.”

He snorts, crossing his arms in front of his chest. “That is literally impossible, but okay- if you’re sure.”

I sling my bag over one shoulder. “I’m sure. I have to go- Lydia’s giving me a ride and she’s downstairs waiting for me, so-” I start to head out of my room, then turn back to Griffin and say, “Oh, I’m heading over to Scott’s later tonight to study with him and Stiles.” We’re going to be doing a little more than studying- what with chaining Scott to the wall so he doesn’t go all Hulk on us again- but I leave that part out.

“You’re hanging out with Scott and Stiles a lot lately,” Griffin notices.

I nod, trying not to give anything away. “Yeah, well, I’m also friends with Lydia and Allison.”

“I know. I just want to make sure you’re socializing enough.”

I smile, sending him a look that says ‘come on’. “Griffin, I was already friends with Stiles before we moved here, I made a friend in Scott, like, the day we got here, and I met Lydia and Allison the first day of school. It’s only been a month. Four friends in one month seems pretty good for me.”

My brother nods. “Of course it is. I just want to make sure you’re- you know- okay.”

My expression softens. “I’m fine, Griff. Promise.”

“Good.” He smirks. “Now get to school.”

I chuckle, sending him a mock salute. “Aye, aye, captain.” With that, I hurry quickly out the door and toward the front of the building, where Lydia is waiting to drive us to school.

* * *

After the bell sounds, I walk down the hall with Lydia and Allison. “It’s just weird,” Allison is saying. “Everybody’s talking about what happened the other night, and nobody knows it was us.”

“Thank you for the protection of minors,” Lydia says.

“Amen to that, sister,” I agree.

We continue down the hallway in silence for another minute until Allison speaks again. “Do you guys think I made the wrong decision?”

“About that jacket with that dress?” Lydia asks. “Absolutely.”

I share a look with Allison. “You know what I mean," Allison says.

“Hello? Scott locked us in a classroom and left us for dead,” Lydia reminds us. I resist the urge to roll my eyes. “He’s lucky we’re not pressing charges. Or making him pay our therapy bills.”

I exchange a look with Allison, saying that we do not agree, and I interject. “I know what he did wasn’t a good decision, but don’t you think that maybe he did that to protect us?”

Before either of them can answer, we round a corner and see Stiles sitting on the ground outside of the principal’s office, ear pressed to the window. “Um, I’ll see you guys in class, okay?” I say. They nod, and continue down the hall while I stop in front of Stiles.

“Comfortable?” I smirk.

“Oh, yeah, totally,” Stiles answers, and I snort.

I’m about to ask what he’s doing on the floor when the office door opens and Noah, Griffin, and a guy in a suit walk out with the principal. “We are watching his family’s house,” Noah is saying. “Maybe he’ll wind up there.” Griffin takes notice of us and nods, causing Noah to look over at us. Stiles stands up as Noah turns back to the guy in the suit. “Give me a second.”

He steps over to us, crossing his arms in front of his chest. “Don’t you two have a test to get to?”

Ignoring the question, Stiles asks his own, “What’s going on? Did you find Derek yet?”

“I’m working on it,” Noah says. “You two go take your test.”

“Alright, Dad, listen to me-”

“Go!”

Ignoring him again, Stiles continues. “This is really important. You have to be careful tonight. Okay? Especially tonight.”

Noah nods reassuringly. “Stiles, I’m always careful.”

“Dad, you’ve never dealt with this kind of thing before, okay? At least not like this-”

Noah nods and glances back at the group he was with before. Stiles and I follow his gaze as he says, “I know, which is why I brought in people who have. State detective. Go take your test.”

Stiles and I exchange a look, and sigh, both of us gripping our backpacks tighter and making our way down the hallway to take our chemistry test.

* * *

We make it inside the room just as Mr. Harris starts passing out the tests. Allison and I are sitting next to each other in the front row, quizzing each other for some last minute review, when Scott walks right up to her.

“Allison-” He starts, but Harris immediately interjects.

“Mr. McCall,” he says, leaning on Allison’s desk as an attempt to gain Scott’s attention. “Please take a seat.”

Scott looks like that is the last thing he wants to do, but he listens and heads to the back of the classroom to sit in front of Stiles.

Now finished passing out the tests, Harris turns to address the whole class. “You have forty-five minutes to complete the test. Twenty-five percent of your grade can be earned right now simply by writing your name on the cover of the blue book. However, as happens every year, one of you will inexplicably fail to put your name on the cover, and I’ll be left yet again questioning my decision to ever become a teacher.” Then why did you, my dude? It seems like you hate it. “So, let’s get the disappointment over with. Begin.” He starts his stopwatch, causing it to beep softly once, and I flip open the booklet- after writing my name on the cover, of course.

It’s easy going, and I am almost done after just twenty minutes. I am reading over the last question when Scott suddenly shoots up in his seat, startling everyone, and rushes out of the room. “Mr. McCall?” Harris calls, but Scott ignores him.

I look back at Stiles, who also stands and runs after Scott. “Mr. Stilinski!”

I quickly circle the answer to the last question and stand, shouldering my bag. I place my finished test on Harris’s desk. “Sorry,” I whisper, quickly following the boys out the door.

“Miss Byrne!” Harris calls, but I’m already gone.

I join Stiles out in the hallway. “Scott,” he calls, looking both ways down the hall, but neither of us see our friend.

I tap his shoulder, gaining his attention, and he follows my gaze to Scott’s abandoned backpack in the middle of the hallway. He kneels down in front of it. “Scott?” He tries again, but no luck. He stands up, grabbing the bag, and takes his phone out to dial Scott’s number. After a second, we hear a faint ringing coming from down the hall.

We exchange a nervous look, and hesitantly make our way down the hall, following the ringtone right to the boys locker room, where we hear the shower running. I place a hand on Stiles’s shoulder and close my eyes, deciding I do not need to see Scott without any clothes.

We walk further into the locker room, Stiles guiding me. I hear Stiles sigh in relief and I figure it’s okay to open my eyes. Other than being shirtless and under a stream of water, Scott is fully clothed. Scott shuts off the water, panting, and turns toward us. “Stiles,” he manages. “I can’t…”

“What’s happening?” Stiles asks quickly. “Are you changing?”

“No. No, I can’t breathe.”

I snap my fingers, knowing what to do. I reach for Scott’s backpack on Stiles’s shoulder and rifle through the pockets. “Aha!” I exclaim triumphantly as I unearth Scott’s inhaler and hand it to him. “Here, use this. Come on, do it.”

Confused, Scott takes it and breathes into it. He takes a second, then asks in disbelief, “I was having an asthma attack?”

I shake my head. “Nope, you were having a panic attack,” I correct. “But thinking that you were having an asthma attack actually tricked your brain into stopping the panic attack.”

“Irony,” Stiles sings, and I hold back a snort, putting Scott’s bag on a bench, all of us significantly calmer now.

“How did you know how to do that?” Scott asks.

I shrug. “I have anxiety, so I get panic attacks sometimes. Fun, right?” Stiles places a hand on my shoulder, and I reach up to give it a thankful squeeze. My panic attacks started when I was a kid, and after a while, my parents decided to have me tested, and I was diagnosed with anxiety in middle school.

Scott shakes his head, throwing his hands out to his sides. “I looked at her, and it was like someone hit me in the ribs with a hammer.”

Stiles nods. “Yeah, it’s called heartbreak. About two billion songs written about it.”

“I can’t stop thinking about her,” Scott sighs, rubbing the back of his head.

“Well, you could think about this: her dad’s a werewolf hunter, and you’re a werewolf, so it was bound to become an issue.”

I hit his shoulder. “Dude.”

“That wasn’t helpful,” he realizes.

I sigh. “Look, Scott, you got dumped. It’s supposed to suck. But it gets better. You know, my dad grew up in Texas, and when he was in high school, he had this girlfriend, and he was totally in love with her. Like, ready to spend the rest of his life with her, in love with her. And then senior year came around, and she decided it was too hard. She didn’t think they would survive after graduation, so she broke up with him. And Dad was so heartbroken that he picked a school as far away as he could get: Roger Williams University, in Rhode Island, halfway across the country. And that is where he met my mom. It hurts now, but you’re going to be okay.”

“No,” Scott denies. “That’s not it. It was like I could feel everything in the room, everyone else’s emotions.”

“It’s got to be the full moon,” Stiles concludes. “So we’ll lock you up in your room later just like we planned. That way the alpha, who is your boss, can’t get to you either.”

“I think we need to do a lot more than lock me in my room.”

“What, you mean because if you get out, you’d be caught by hunters?” Stiles questions.

Scott shakes his head, stepping closer to us. “No. Because if I get out… I think I might kill someone.”

* * *

_3rd POV_

After school, the lacrosse team is gathered in the locker room, waiting for Coach Finstock to make his announcement before they go out to the field to practice.

“Alright, geniuses, listen up,” Coach says as he walks in. “Due to the recent pink eye epidemic- thank you Greenberg- the following people have made first line on a probationary basis, emphasis on the word _probationary_.” He looks down at his clipboard and reads out the names. “Rodriguez. Welcome to first line. Taylor, and, uh… oh, for the love of crap. I can’t even read my own writing. What is that, an ‘S’? No, no, that’s not an ‘S’.” He squints down at the list and finally says, “That’s a- that’s a- that’s a ‘B’. That’s a ‘B’. It’s definitely a ‘B’. Uh, Rodriguez, Taylor, and, uh, Bilinski.”

Stiles’s head whips around at Coach, realizing that even though ‘Bilinski’ is not his last name, Coach does mean him. “Yeah-heh-heh!” He shouts, shooting up from his seat, grinning wide, and flailing his arms. “Whaa! Whoo-hoo-hoo! Yeah!”

“Bilinski!” Coach shouts.

“Yes,” Stiles says, trying to calm down.

“Shut up!”

“Yes, sir.” He sits back on the bench next to Scott.

“Stiles,” Scott whispers.

“It’s Biles,” Stiles corrects immediately. “Call me Biles or I swear to God I’ll kill you.”

“And another thing,” Coach continues, “from here on out, immediately, we’re switching to co-captains. Congratulations, McCall.”

Everyone turns to face Scott, who could not look more indifferent to the news, even if Stiles is smiling.

“What?” Jackson questions, taking a step forward.

“What do you mean, ‘what’?” Coach asks. “Jackson, this takes nothing away from you. This is about combining separate strengths into one unit. This is about taking your unit, McCall’s unit, we’re making one big unit. McCall, it’s you and Jackson now.” He glances down at his clipboard. “One last thing. Because we are missing so many people due to Greenberg’s pink eye, we are still down one person. If anyone has any suggestions, let me know.” Stiles perks up, knowing just who he’ll recommend to Coach. “Alright, everybody-” he blows into his whistle, emitting a high pitched tweet- “asses on the field!”

“Dude, can you believe this?” Stiles asks Scott as they join the rest of the team making their way down the hall toward the field. “You’re a captain. I’m first line. I’m first freaking line!” Noticing the blank look on Scott’s face, he continues. “Are you not freaking out? I’m freaking out.”

“What’s the point?” Scott grumbles. “It’s just a stupid title. And I could practically smell the jealousy in there.”

Stiles places a hand on Scott’s chest, stopping both their steps. “Wait, you smelled jealousy?”

“Yeah, it’s like the full moon’s turned everything up to ten.”

“Huh.” Stiles thinks for a moment, then says, “Can you pick up on stuff like, I don’t know, desire?”

“What do you mean ‘desire’?” Scott asks.

“Like, sexual desire?” He elaborates.

“Sexual desire?” Scott repeats.

“Yeah, sexual desire. Lust, passion, _arousal_.”

Scott looks down the hallway, noticing Lydia talking to Vivian. “From Lydia?” He guesses, even though he knows exactly who Stiles really means.

“What?” Stiles jerks back slightly. “No, in a general, broad sense, can you determine sexual desire?”

A smirk grows on Scott’s face. “From Lydia to you? Are you sure you don’t want me checking someone el-”

“Fine, yes, from Lydia to me,” Stiles says, interrupting Scott. “Look, I need to know if I have a chance with this girl, okay? I’ve been obsessing over her since the third _freakin’_ grade.”

“Why don’t you just ask her?” Scott wonders.

Stiles answers simply, “Well, to save myself utterly crushing humiliation. Thank you, Scott. Okay? So, please, can you just go up and ask her if she likes me? See if her heartbeat rises, pheromones come out.” He gestures around his head, portraying what he apparently thinks pheromones do when they exit the head.

“Fine,” Scott sighs and starts walking toward Lydia and Vivian, if for no other reason than to get his friend to stop talking. He smirks. “If you really think _Lydia_ is the one I should be checking with.” He feels bad for his friend, but he has to admit it’s fun to give him shit.

“Wh- I love you,” Stiles says to Scott’s retreating back. “I love you. You’re my best friend in the whole world.”

“Hey, Lydia,” Scott says as he reaches her and Vivian. “Can we talk for a second?”

The redhead exchanges a confused look with the blonde, who shrugs. “Of course,” Lydia says, and the two make their way to Coach’s office.

Vivian glances at Stiles. “What was that about?”

“Scott’s just checking something for me- it’s no big deal.” Stiles places a hand on Vivian’s shoulder, leading her down the hall. “Come on, let’s get to the field.”

* * *

After Vivian makes her way up the bleachers, Stiles heads over to Coach. “Hey, Coach, can I talk to you for a second?”

“What is it, Bilinski?” Coach asks, looking around at the players on the field instead of Stiles.

“Well, earlier in the locker room, you said you still needed another player for first line, and are looking for suggestions.”

“You have a suggestion?”

Stiles scratches his head. “Yeah, uh, you know my friend Vivian?” Stiles looks up the bleachers, and Coach follows his gaze to Vivian hunched over a large book.

Coach scoffs. “You want _her_ to join the lacrosse team?”

“Look, Coach, she’s a great player.” He tilts his head. “She may not be the most aggressive athlete, but she knows the game- she knows how to teach it and she knows how to play. She’s small, she’s fast, and she’s tough. She’d be a great addition to the team.”

Coach flicks his eyes between Stiles and Vivian. Finally, he sighs. “Hey, Byrne!” He calls up the bleachers, startling Vivian. He waves her down. “Get changed into something other than a skirt and boots, then grab some gear. This is your tryout day.”

Eyes wide, Vivian looks to Stiles, then quickly gathers her stuff and clambers down the bleachers back toward the locker room.

* * *

_Vivian’s POV_

I am going to kill Stiles Stilinski. As soon as possible. Most likely with a heavy book.

I glare at him as I gear up. “I can’t believe you signed me up for this.”

“Viv, you’re going to do great,” Stiles attempts to reassure me.

“I’m more of a writer than an athlete- you know that.”

“But you know the game- probably better than any guy on this field. And you won almost every game when we were little.” I tilt my head, knowing he’s right. “Your mom taught you everything about the game,” he reminds me. He places a hand on my shoulder. “I know you’re nervous, but just remember, this is just a tryout for you. You’re gonna crush it.” He raises his eyebrows. “And, hey, I saw the bear you have in your backpack earlier, so, you know, Mr. Bear is there for you, too.”

My eyes widen. “You saw that?”

Stiles nods. “Yeah, during lunch. I don’t think I recognized him.”

I sigh, lowering my head. “It’s the bear the hospital gave me after the accident. I sleep with it every night, and I thought bringing it to school today would make me feel better- be an extra comfort after what happened the other night.” I move my gaze up to Stiles’s. “And his name is not Mr. Bear, it’s Yogi. As in Yogi Bear.”

Stiles stifles a grin. “Well, remember, Yogi Bear fully supports you, and I do, too.” 

A small smile grows on my face, and I grip my stick a little tighter, and a little more confidently. “Thanks, Stiles.”

Right then, Scott walks up and sits down on Stiles’s other side. “Hey,” Stiles says. “What happened?”

“What?” Scott asks, seeming a little out of it.

Stiles flails his arms a little, a little impatient. “What do you mean, ‘what’? Did you ask her? Did she say anything? Did she say she liked me? Did she _imply_ she liked me?”

“Yeah,” Scott interrupts, sounding bored. “Yeah, she likes you. In fact, she’s totally into you.”

I narrow my eyes, suspecting Scott is lying, but I don’t say anything. Instead, I force a smile on my face when Stiles turns to me, thrilled.

Scott turns to me, as if noticing me for the first time. “What are you doing geared up?” He demands.

“Stiles here recommended me to Coach,” I say, bumping Stiles’s shoulder with my own. “I’m here to try out for the team.”

Scott stares at me, amused. “ _You’re_ going to play lacrosse?”

I open my mouth to retort back, but Stiles speaks up. “Come on, Scott, she’s good,” he insists. “We could use some good players.”

“Whatever,” Scott scoffs, and turns back to face the field. I exchange a look with Stiles. Was this just the full moon messing with Scott’s head, or the break up, or something else?

* * *

A few minutes later, Scott, Stiles, and I are standing in line a little ways in front of the goal. Players in front of me have been trying to get past the defensive line to shoot the ball into the goal.

“Scott, you okay, dude?” Stiles asks as Scott steps up to play. “Look, I know we just got good news and all, but there’s still seven hours ‘til the full moon, okay?”

Ignoring him, Scott runs toward the goal when Coach blows the whistle. Two players block him probably harder than needed, and Scott falls to the ground with a thud. I wince sympathetically.

Coach laughs, leaning over Scott, who has made no moves to get up. “Guess some people don’t appreciate your new status there, McCall. Who’s next?” He blows his whistle. “Let’s go.” Stiles steps up to the line and grabs a ball with his stick. However, Scott does a little flip thing to get up and grabs his own stick.

“You have a problem with that Bilinski?” Coach asks Stiles.

“What?” Stiles asks. “Yeah, no.”

“Alright, you’re up big boy. Let’s go.”

However, before Stiles can move forward, Scott forces Stiles back with his stick. “That’s it, McCall!” Coach cheers. “That’s the spirit! You earn it! Earn it, McCall!”

Coach blows the whistle and Scott shoots down the field, slamming into the defensive line. I wince as the players land on the ground. He makes it to the goal and knocks into Danny with unnecessary force, before throwing the ball into the goal.

“Danny! Oh, man, Danny!” People all around are rushing toward Danny, who isn’t moving from the ground. We get to Danny, and I see his nose is bleeding. I wince. What the hell was Scott thinking?

Stiles and I walk over to Scott a few feet away, taking off our helmets. “Dude, what the hell are you doing?” Stiles demands.

“He’s twice the size of me,” Scott says, like that makes it better.

“Yeah, but everybody _likes_ Danny,” I say. “Now everybody’s gonna hate you.”

“I don’t care,” Scott scoffs. “And, Viv, this is the game. If you couldn’t handle it, why’d you come to try out?”

I open my mouth to respond, but then Lydia runs onto the field next to Jackson. “Is he okay?” She asks.

“It looks like he just has a bloody nose-” Jackson stops as he turns to face her.

“What?” Lydia asks.

“Your lipstick.”

Lydia takes out a compact mirror and examines herself. “Oh.” She reaches up to try and fix her smudged makeup, but she’s acting like she’s trying to cover for something. “Huh- wonder how that happened.”

Jackson nods, looking like he cannot believe her any less. “Yeah. I wonder.”

Stiles’s mouth drops open as he turns away from them and looks at Scott. Suddenly, it clicks. Oh, let me be wrong. I would _love_ to be wrong just this once.

* * *

“So, tell me how we’re going to break into Scott’s house this time?” I ask as I shut the door to Stiles’s Jeep, both of us walking up the path to Scott’s front door.

“No breaking in necessary,” Stiles smirks, holding up a house key.

I let out a small laugh. “Wait, did you copy Scott’s house key? You know that’s illegal?”

“It’s only illegal if you get caught.” He fits the key in the lock and opens the front door.

“Scott?” Ms. McCall calls as we walk inside, and I shut the door behind me.

“Stiles and Vivian,” Stiles says nervously as she walks into the foyer. I lift my hand in a small half wave.

“Key,” Ms. McCall says, pointing to the key in Stiles’s hand.

“Yeah. I had one made, so…”

“That doesn’t surprise me. Scares me, but- doesn’t surprise me.”

With that, Stiles drops the duffel bag on the ground. I wince as it lands with a clank.

“What is that?” Ms. McCall asks, staring at the bag.

“Oh,” I say, trying to think of a good cover. “It’s our, um- school project. Speaking of which, is, um- is Scott here yet?”

“Oh, not yet. Should be any minute, though.” She pauses, before asking, “Guys, he’s okay, right?”

“Who? Scott?” Stiles asks, nervously shoving his hands in his pockets. “Yeah- totally.” He shrugs, and if I were Ms. McCall, I would not believe him.

“He just doesn’t talk to me that much anymore,” she says sadly. “Not like he used to.”

“Well, he’s had a bit of a rough week,” Stiles attempts to comfort her.

“Yeah, yeah, I get it. Yeah, um… okay, uh… be careful tonight,” she says, reaching for her keys.

“You, too,” I say, glad this conversation is coming to a close.

Ms. McCall finds her keys and turns to face us again, stating, “Full moon.”

Stiles and I do a double take. “What?” We say in unison.

“There’s a full moon tonight,” she elaborates, laughing. “You should see how the E.R. gets. Brings out all the nutjobs.”

“Oh,” Stiles chuckles, and I try not to let the relief that she doesn’t actually know anything show on my face.

“Yeah,” she smiles, looking between the two of us.

“Right,” I say as she steps toward the door.

“You know, it’s um, actually where they came up with the word ‘lunatic’.”

With that, she steps out the door, leaving Stiles and I speechless. As soon as the door shuts, we breathe sighs of relief. “Oh, my God, I think I had a mini heart attack,” I say.

“You’re telling me,” he replies. “Okay, so Scott isn’t here, but we should probably start setting up for when he does get here.”

“Sounds good.”

He grabs the duffel bag from the floor, and we head up the stairs to Scott’s room. When Stiles flips the light on, we jerk back in unison, exclaiming, “Oh, my God!” Sitting in the corner in an armchair, in the dark like a weirdo, is Scott.

“Dude,” Stiles says, calming down a little. “You scared the hell out of me. Your mom said you weren’t home yet.” We step further into the room, and Stiles places the duffel in front of the radiator.

“I came in through the window,” Scott says simply. What the fuck?

“Okay,” Stiles says, trying not to ask about the window thing. “Uh, well, let’s get this set up. I want you to see what I bought.”

We kneel down to open the bag, but Scott says, “I’m fine. I’m just gonna lock the door and go to bed early tonight.”

Stiles lifts his head toward Scott and asks, “You sure about that? ‘Cause you’ve got this kind of serial killer look going on in your eyes, and I’m hoping it’s the full moon taking effect, ‘cause it’s really starting to freak me out.”

“Yeah, me, too,” I say, tensing up instinctively.

“I’m fine,” Scott insists. “You should go now.”

“Alright, we’ll leave,” Stiles says. He moves back on his heels to stand, then stops. “Well, look, would you just at least look in the bag and see what I bought? You know, maybe you use it, maybe you don’t. Sound good?”

Scott stands up from the chair and steps over to kneel beside the bag. He reaches in and lifts out some chains. “You think I’m gonna let you two put these on and chain me up like a dog?” He asks, moving his glare between the chains and us.

“Actually, no,” Stiles states before suddenly shooting forward and wrapping a pair of handcuffs on Scott’s wrist, securing the other end to the radiator.

As soon as Scott can’t get free, Stiles quickly moves back, grabbing my shoulder and having me stand up and pushing me behind him.

“What the hell are you doing?” Scott yells, frantically pulling on the handcuffs. I take hold of Stiles’s elbow and move us back slightly.

“Protecting you from yourself,” Stiles says, “and giving you some payback… for making out with Lydia.” Scott deepens his glare toward us.

With that, Stiles places a hand on my upper arm and leads me out of the room.

“Stiles-” I start, though I really have no idea what to say.

“Stay here, I’ll be right back,” he says, and walks downstairs before I can respond.

After a moment, he comes back with a half full water bottle and a dog bowl with Scott’s name scrawled on one side in thick black Sharpie.

“I brought you some water,” he tells Scott as he walks into the bedroom, me hovering in the doorway to watch the scene. He waves the bottle in the air before pouring the water in the dog bowl. I cover my mouth, trying to hold back my laugh. He tosses the empty bottle aside, placing the bowl next to Scott.

Stiles makes it to the doorway before Scott throws the bowl at his back, shouting, “I’m gonna kill you!”

The bowl clatters to the ground, and Stiles snaps back, “You kissed her, Scott, okay? You kissed Lydia. That’s, like, the _one_ girl- and, you know, the past three hours, I’ve been thinking, it’s probably just the full moon, you know, he doesn’t even know what he’s doing, and tomorrow, he’ll be totally back to normal. He probably won’t even remember what a complete dumbass he’s been. A son of a bitch, a fucking unbelievable piece of shit friend.”

“She kissed me,” Scott says, raising his head toward Stiles. My glare toward Scott deepens with his words.

Stiles jerks his head back slightly. “What?”

“I didn’t kiss her. She kissed me.” Stiles walks out into the hallway, and I stay glaring at Scott in the door. “She would have done a lot more, too. You should have seen the way she had her hands all over me. She would have done anything I wanted. Anything!” He chuckles humorlessly. “What does it matter, anyway, Stiles? We both know Lydia isn’t the one you want-”

Not knowing what that means, but taking one look at Stiles’s face, I decide I don’t care and bellow back, “Enough! Are you seriously throwing this in Stiles’s face? I know I haven’t been here very long, but is this how people in Beacon Hills treat their friends? Do you even hear your-”

“Let it out, Vivian!” Scott interrupts. “Let it all out. Is this the only way you’re confident- sticking up for Stiles? It must be, since you barely talk to anyone else. I mean, I see how you are. You can’t handle lacrosse, you can’t go bowling with friends without having a breakdown- you can’t even come to school without needing a teddy bear to get you through the day!”

I inhale sharply, and blink, trying to get rid of the tingly feeling in my nose. I back out of the room, slamming the door shut. I slide down the wall next to Stiles, who rests a comforting hand on my knee. I breathe deeply, and rest my head on Stiles's shoulder.

After a few moments of silence, we hear clanking and Scott moaning out, “Guys, please let me out. It’s the full moon, I swear. You know I wouldn’t do any of this on purpose.” I exchange a look with Stiles, both of us wrestling with the decision, but we know we can’t let him out.

“Please, guys, let me out,” Scott begs. “It’s starting to hurt. It’s not like the first time. It’s the full moon. It’s Allison- breaking up with me. I know… that it’s not just taking a break. She broke up with me. And it’s killing me. I feel completely hopeless. Just please- let me out.”

Stiles glances over at me, and I squeeze his hand as he forces out, “We can’t.”

Scott starts screaming in pain, and even though it’s killing me to hear one of my friends like that, I stay put. Stiles tightens his grip on my hand, then lets go to cover his ears as Scott gets louder. I do the same.

After a few moments, Scott abruptly stops. Stiles and I look at each other in confusion, and look towards Scott’s doorway. “Scott, are you okay?” Stiles asks. Not hearing a response, we both stand. “Scott?” Stiles opens the door, keeping a protective arm in front of me.

I gasp, my eyes widening, as I look on the ground and see a pair of broken handcuffs next to a few bloodstains, an open window, and no Scott.

“Oh, shit,” I whisper.

Stiles taps my shoulder, quickly backing out of the room. “Come on, we gotta go.” Tossing one more look at the handcuffs, I nod and run after Stiles.

* * *

After only a few minutes of driving, we come across a police car and an ambulance. “No, no, no, no, no, no, no,” Stiles mutters quickly, putting the car in park.

“What’s wrong?” I ask as he gets out of the car, and I follow suit. “Stiles, what is it?”

“This is where I took Scott last night,” he answers. He doesn’t elaborate on his thought process before running up to the scene. “Dad? Dad? Has anyone seen my- has anyone seen my dad?”

At the same time, our eyes land on the gurney, the body on it covered, and a horrible thought crosses my mind. I quickly walk up next to Stiles as he reaches for the sheet when we hear a voice.

“Stiles, Vivian.”

Oh, thank God. We both turn and a wave of relief crashes over me as Noah walks over.

“What are you two doing here?” He asks. We don’t answer, and instead, Stiles takes a few steps closer to him and wraps him in a tight hug. Noah pats Stiles on the back.

Once they let go of each other, Noah repeats his question, and I manage to make up some excuse about how we were on our way to get ice cream, then we clamber back into the Jeep so that we’re not lying to Noah again.


	9. Wolf's Bane

So, quick preface.

The Argent hunters are trying to look for Derek, and he needed help distracting them while he looked for the alpha. However, since Scott threw him under the bus last week at the school, Derek can’t just bop around town looking for a werewolf- who we apparently need to help Scott kill so that his werewolfness will be reversed. Super psyched about our _Percy Jackson_ -like adventure. And here I thought sophomore year in Beacon Hills was going to be boring.

So, the plan for tonight is for Scott, Stiles, and I to drive Derek’s car, leading the Argents on a wild goose- wolf- chase around town while Derek did his investigating.

It’s going about as well as can be expected.

I jerk to the left into the car door as Scott takes a turn too fast, and am grateful I put my seat belt on. For our viewers at home, the first rule to participating in an epic car chase is to always wear a seat belt. Safety first, people!

“Faster?” Scott asks Stiles, who is in the passenger seat.

Stiles glances behind me out the rear view mirror toward the hunter on our tails. “Much faster,” he says, and Scott presses down harder on the gas.

“Scott, I don’t think you’re grasping the concept of the car chase here,” Stiles says, both of us keeping our eye on the black car gaining on us.

“If I go any faster, I’ll kill us,” Scott defends.

“Okay, but if you don’t go any faster, _they’re_ gonna kill us!” I stress, glancing at Scott with my words before turning back to the window.

With that, Scott makes a right onto a different road. “They’re gone,” I smile, and I turn back to face the front.

Scott glances back to confirm as the police radio that Stiles may or may not have stolen beeps, and Noah’s voice comes in. _“All units, suspect is on foot heading into the iron works.”_ Crap.

We drive to the iron works and swerve to a stop as we see Derek taking cover behind a machine. “Get in!” Stiles yells as he opens the passenger side door and climbs into the backseat with me. Derek sprints toward us, causing bullets to fire rapidly at him. As soon as his door shuts, Scott slams his foot on the gas.

“What part of laying low don’t you understand?” Scott shouts at Derek.

“Damn it, I had him!” Derek complains, slamming his fist into the glove compartment.

“Who, the alpha?” Stiles asks, leaning between the front seats.

“Yes! He was right in front of me, and the fucking police showed up.”

“Whoa, hey, they’re just doing their jobs… uh, yeah-” he trails off as Derek fixes a cold glare at him.

“Yeah,” he says, turning his gaze on Scott, “thanks to someone who decided to make me the most wanted fugitive in the _entire state_!”

“Can we seriously get past that?” Scott asks. “I made a dumbass mistake. I get it.”

“Alright,” I chime in, leaning forward to try and cut some of the tension. “How did you find him?”

Instead of answering, Derek scoffs, shakes his head, and turns to face the road.

“Can you try to trust us for at least half a second?” Scott huffs.

Stiles nods. “Yeah, all of us.” Derek glares at him, and he quickly corrects, “Or just him. I’ll be back here.” He holds his hand up and leans back in his seat.

Derek scoffs, nodding his head toward me. “The only one I can start to trust is her.”

I raise my eyebrows, surprised I gave him that impression, then turn to smile smugly at Stiles, who huffs.

“Look, the last time I talked to my sister, she was close to figuring something out,” Derek says. “She found two things. The first was a guy named Harris.”

Stiles quickly leans forward, grabbing onto Derek’s seat for balance. “Our chemistry teacher?”

“Why him?” I ask, leaning forward as well.

“I don’t know yet,” Derek says, shaking his head.

“What’s the second?” Scott asks.

“Some kind of symbol.” He takes a piece of paper out of his pocket, shows it to Stiles and I before turning it more toward Scott.

My eyes widen in recognition, and apparently Scott recognizes it, too, because he lets out a breath and closes his eyes for a second. “What?” Derek asks us. “You know what this is?”

“I’ve seen it on a necklace,” Scott says slowly.

He catches my eye in the rear view mirror as I continue, “Allison’s necklace.”

* * *

“This is gonna be impossible, you know,” Scott tells Stiles and I as we walk into school together the next morning.

“Why don’t you just ask her if you can borrow it?” Stiles suggests.

I furrow my eyebrows as I question, “For what? You don’t just ask if you can borrow a girl’s necklace. Especially if that girl is your ex-girlfriend.”

Scott nods in agreement, but Stiles huffs and insists, “No, it’s easy. You just say, ‘Hey, Allison, can I borrow your necklace to see if there’s anything on it or in it that can lead me to an alpha werewolf that I need to kill in order to get back together with you?’”

“Very subtle,” I say sarcastically. “Look, you can’t just ask your ex-girlfriend for her necklace. Plus, her aunt gave it to her, which inspired her to learn about her family’s history. She’s not going to let anyone touch it.”

“Okay, neither of you are helping,” Scott complains, glaring at both of us.

“Why don’t you just talk to her?” Stiles suggests.

Scott huffs. “She won’t talk to me. What if she, like, only takes it off in the shower or something?”

“That’s why you ease back into it, okay? Get back on her good side, remind her of the good times.” He lightly hits Scott’s shoulder. “And then you ask for the necklace.” Scott doesn’t look like he’s paying much attention, and Stiles hits his shoulder harder, snapping him out of his thoughts. “You’re thinking about her in the shower, aren’t you?”

“Yeah,” Scott confirms. I inwardly roll my eyes. Boys, am I right?

Stiles places his hand on Scott’s shoulder. “Alright, stay focused, okay? Get the necklace, get the alpha, get cured, get Allison. In that order. Got it?” He finishes his point with another light tap on Scott’s shoulder, then walks away. I pull my backpack tighter around me, toss Scott an encouraging smile, and follow Stiles down the hall.

* * *

“How the fuck did he find out?” I whisper-shout as I head back inside the school with Scott and Stiles.

Quick story time: apparently Jackson found out that Scott is a werewolf, and now wants to be a werewolf himself. He basically threatened Scott that if he doesn’t get the alpha to bite him, he’ll tell Allison everything. Nice guys I go to school with, right?

“I have no idea.” Scott shakes his head in disbelief, visibly freaking out.

“Did he say it out loud- the word?” Stiles asks, trying to calm down our friend.

“What word?”

“That you’re a unicorn,” I say sarcastically.

Scott stares and Stiles continues for me, keeping his voice low, “Werewolf. Did he say, ‘I know you’re a werewolf’?”

“No, but he implied it pretty fucking clearly,” Scott whispers.

Stiles continues to be positive. “Okay, maybe it’s not as bad as it seems. I mean, he doesn’t have any proof, right? And if he wanted to tell someone, who’s gonna believe him, anyway?”

I wince, raising my hand slightly. “Um, what about Allison’s father?”

Stiles pauses, conceding, “Okay, it’s bad.”

He rubs the top of his head as Scott says, “I need a cure. Right now.”

“Does he know about Allison’s father?” Stiles asks.

“I don’t know,” Scott huffs.

Stiles nods, then asks, “Okay, where’s Derek?”

Scott looks around, answering, “Hiding, like we told him to. Why?”

“I have another idea,” Stiles says, stopping our steps. “It’s gonna take a little time to finesse, though.”

“We have that game tonight,” Scott reminds us. “It’s quarterfinals- and it’s both of your first games.”

Stiles leans his head back, saying quickly, “I know, I know. Look, do you have a plan for Allison, yet?”

“She’s in my next class,” he shakes his head. So, that’s a no on having a plan.

Stiles lifts his hands to the sides and states the very vague plan we have. “Get the necklace.”

Scott nods, and I throw him another encouraging smile as Stiles and I go to our next class.

* * *

“Did you get her to give you the necklace?” Stiles asks, setting his tray down next to Scott, who is across from me in the cafeteria.

“Not exactly,” Scott says, shaking his head.

Stiles gets settled into his seat, taking a bite of his chicken tenders. “Ah. What happened?”

“She told me not to talk to her. At all.”

I wince sympathetically, and Stiles tries to talk through his chicken, “So, she’s not giving you-”

“She’s not giving me the necklace,” Scott rushes out angrily.

“Well, did you find anything else out?” Stiles asks.

“Just that I know nothing about girls, and that they’re totally psychotic.”

I furrow my brows, glaring at him. “Excuse you!” I exclaim, placing my water bottle back on the table.

“Not you, though,” Scott quickly corrects. “You’re normal.”

I smile sarcastically. “Why, thank you.”

Stiles shifts in his seat, getting us back on track. “Okay, I came up with a plan b just in case anything like this happened.”

“What’s plan b?” Scott inquires.

I squint. “Oh, please don’t say what I think you’re going to say-”

“Just steal the stupid thing,” Stiles states like it’s that fucking easy.

I close my eyes. “I was afraid you were gonna say that.”

“Couldn’t we try at least getting to Harris?” Scott suggests as I open my eyes.

Stiles shakes his head. “My dad put him on a twenty-four hour protective detail, okay? The necklace is all we got. Steal it. Thank you.”

Scott sighs, looking at me, and I shrug. Unfortunately, I don’t have anything better as of this moment.

Suddenly, he straightens in his seat, flicking his eyes between Stiles and I. “Guys, he’s watching us.”

Stiles swallows his water and moves his eyes to look at something over my shoulder, and I realize that he’s probably looking at Jackson. Immediately, I start fidgeting nervously, trying to act natural, even though as soon as I think the words ‘act natural’, I start acting the least natural I can possibly be.

Scott furrows his brows, glances past me quickly, then moves his gaze back to his plate. “What’s wrong?” Stiles whispers.

“Jackson’s talking to me,” Scott says. “He knows I can hear him.”

Shocked, Stiles starts to look in Jackson’s direction, but Scott stops him. “Look at me. Just talk to me. Act normal- pretend that nothing’s happening.”

I exchange a wide-eyed look with Stiles. “Can’t,” I say. “Can’t talk. I can’t think of anything. Words have just left my head.”

“Say something,” Scott hisses to us. “Talk to me!”

Stiles flails his arms a little and frantically says, “I can’t think of anything. My mind’s a complete blank.”

Scott sends us an incredulous look. “Your minds are blank. You can’t think of something to say?”

“Not under this kind of pressure,” Stiles whisper-yells.

Suddenly, I snap my fingers, finally thinking of something. “Um, the next _Heroes of Olympus_ book is coming out in October.”

Scott looks at me gratefully. “Yes, thank you, Vivian. What’s it called?”

I take a breath, starting to calm down a little. “ _The Son of Neptune_. I think Percy is coming back in this one, which is good, because him at an unfamiliar camp without his memories was really stressing me out.”

Stiles sits up straighter, getting my attention. “Viv, that’s great, but FYI, he’s not even sitting with them anymore.”

Scott and I both whip our heads around to look at the table where Jackson had been sitting with Allison and Lydia. “Where the hell is he?” Scott asks as we turn back to Stiles. Suddenly, Scott looks back down at the table.

Stiles and I share a worried look as Scott squeezes his water bottle, seemingly getting angrier by the second. “Yes,” he whispers to himself.

Scott takes a drink from the bottle and Stiles leans toward him slightly. “Scott, come on, you can’t let him do this. You can’t let him have this kind of power over you, okay?”

Scott ignores him, and when Stiles looks over at me, I helplessly shrug, not knowing what to do to calm him down.

Suddenly, a loud clatter has me snapping my head down toward the source, which is Scott’s lunch tray, now in two jagged pieces.

Well, this went well.

* * *

“Jackson!” I hear a voice call out behind me, and I turn away from my locker to see Lydia moving down the hallway with a purpose. She comes to a stop in front of Jackson, waving her cell phone in the air. “This little text- not funny!”

“No, I wasn’t trying to be funny,” Jackson says, completely serious. “I would have put a ‘ha ha’ at the end of it. And, see, there’s no ‘ha ha’.”

I roll my eyes at his words, zipping my bag closed.

Lydia smirks, reciting the message for him, “‘Lydia, please give up my spare house key at your earliest convenience… as we are no longer dating’?”

“You didn’t lose it, did you?” Jackson asks, acting like he didn’t become more of a dick by dumping one of the best people I know by _text_.

“What the hell is this?” Lydia hisses, leaning closer to him.

He smirks. “Well, Lydia, in preparation for some big changes, I’ve decided to drop some of the dead weight in my life. And you’re just about the deadest.” Asshole.

“Are you breaking up with me?” Lydia questions, trying to process what’s happening.

“Dumping, actually,” Jackson corrects. “I’m dumping you.” He chuckles, starting to walk away, but Lydia grabs his jacket, pulling him back.

“Dumped by the co-captain of the lacrosse team,” she smirks. “I wonder how many minutes it’ll take me to get over _that_.” Jackson blows her a kiss, taking off down the hallways as she shouts firmly to his back, “Wait, seconds, actually! Seconds!”

Once the prick is out of sight, I close my locker and inch closer to Lydia, hesitantly saying, “Hey. “You okay?”

Lydia takes a deep breath, confidently nodding her head as she answers, “Perfect. I’m amazing, Vivian.”

I may have just met her, but I know enough about her to not believe that. She looks vulnerable- not at all like the Lydia I know, and I don’t like it. “He doesn’t deserve you, you know,” I say softly, smiling slightly. “Breaking up with someone over text is just the biggest douchepants move. Just watch- in ten years when you’re winning a Fields Medal for solving some unsolvable math problem, and he’s getting drunk at some bar, you’re not even going to remember his name, and he’s going to rue the day he broke up with Lydia Martin.”

Her mouth twitches up slightly. “Thanks, Viv.”

I tilt my head to the side. “You know, after that night in the school, my brother taught me how to properly hit someone without breaking my wrist.” I smirk, playfully bumping her shoulder with mine. “Want me to punch him again for you?”

Lydia laughs- loudly. An honest to goodness, real life Lydia Martin exclusive laugh. “Oh, I love you, you violent little cinnamon roll.” She loops her arm through mine. “Come on- let’s not waste our time on these teenage _boys_.”

With that, we walk to our next class, and I can’t help but stare at her in awe. She holds her head high, and there’s a new confidence in her eyes that wasn’t there before.

* * *

“Why is your Derek at your house?” I ask, sitting up in my seat at my desk. Stiles called me a few minutes ago- interrupting a study flow, unfortunately- and told me that Derek showed up in his bedroom.

 _“I don’t know, why does Derek show up anywhere?”_ He counters. _“Look, I need you to come over. Danny’s on his way- we’re gonna try and trace the text that Allison got the night of the school.”_

“It had to come from somewhere,” I realize. I shake my head, standing up and getting my things together. “Wait, does Danny know he’s about to do some illegal hacking?”

Stiles hesitates. _“Yes.”_ He pauses. _“No- but he will. As soon as he gets here. I told him we were doing lab homework.”_

I nod, knowing that Danny will _not_ want to trace a text for us. “Okay, I’ll be right over.”

* * *

A few minutes later, I am settled into a chair next to Stiles while Danny looks at us like we’re crazy. “You want me to do what?” He demands.

“Trace a text,” I inform with a small smile.

Danny shakes his head. “I came here to do lab work. That’s what lab partners do.”

Stiles groans. “And we will- once you trace the text.”

“And what makes you think I know how?” Danny counters.

“I- I looked up your arrest report, so…,” Stiles stammers out, slightly guiltily.

“I- I was thirteen. They dropped the charges,” Danny argues.

Stiles lifts up his hands like he’s not judging and says, “Whatever.”

Danny shakes his head again, pulling up a chair. “No. We’re doing lab work.”

“Oh, my…” Stiles groans, reluctantly getting out his lab notes on his computer.

Danny leans toward us and gestures to Derek with his head. “Who’s he again?”

Stiles and I exchange a worried look, then glance back at Danny. Stiles answers, “Um, my cousin… Miguel.”

I barely contain a snort.

“Is that blood on his shirt?” Danny asks, lowering his voice.

We glance at Derek again, and Stiles says, “Yeah. Yes. Well, he gets these horrible nosebleeds.” I feel like this cover story isn’t getting any better. Stiles turns to address Derek. “Hey, Miguel. I thought I told you you could borrow one of my shirts.”

He tosses a pointed look between Derek and his dresser. Derek closes the book he was reading angrily and walks over to search Stiles’s drawers.

Stiles turns back to Danny. “So, anyway, I mean, we all know you have the skills to trace that text, so we should probably-”

“Uh, Stiles?” Derek interrupts, and we turn around.

“Yes?” Stiles asks, slightly annoyed.

Derek holds up one of Stiles’s shirts. “This- no fit.” He stretches it to emphasize his point.

“Then try something else on,” Stiles urges before turning back to Danny.

I suddenly remember something that I packed on the way to the house. “Oh!” I exclaim, jumping up and rummaging through my backpack. “I just remembered that I brought you some of my brother’s old shirts.” I find them, holding them out to Derek. “I figured you wouldn’t be able to get to a laundromat because of your, uh… situation- so I raided Griffin’s closet before coming over. They should fit a little better.”

Derek takes them gratefully. “Thanks, Vivian.”

I nod, smiling slightly, and take my seat once more.

“Sorry,” Stiles says to Danny, and notices him staring at Derek as he puts on one of Griffin’s shirts and looks between Danny and Derek. “Hey, that one looks pretty good, huh?” Stiles taps Danny on the shoulder and gestures to our werewolf friend/Stiles’s pretend cousin. “What do you think, Danny?”

“Huh?” Danny asks, obviously not wanting to be a part of this conversation.

“The shirt.”

“It- it’s not really his color.”

Derek throws Stiles another glare- is it another glare if the glare never actually left his face?- and takes off the shirt, tossing it on the bed and trying another one.

“You swing for a different team, but you still play ball, don’t you Danny-boy?” Stiles says, and I cover my mouth with my hand to suppress a laugh.

“You’re a horrible person,” Danny retorts.

“I know. It keeps me awake at night. Anyway, about that text…”

“Vivian!” Derek calls, gaining my attention. He gestures to the shirt he is wearing, a bright red and white striped henley, an annoyed look on his face.

I grimace apologetically. “Those are the only ones Griffin doesn’t wear,” I say. I try to smile, and shoot him a thumbs up. “But you look great!”

Derek smiles humorlessly, and tosses me a sarcastic thumbs up.

“Sorry,” I mouth.

Danny reaches for Stiles’s computer and says, “I’ll need the ISP, the phone number, and the exact time of the text.”

Stiles raises his hands in triumph, and gives me a high five.

* * *

A few minutes later, Danny has successfully hacked stuff- is that a phrase people say? It should be- and Derek has found a shirt that doesn’t make him look like a candy cane. “There,” Danny sighs and points to the screen. “The text was sent from a computer- this one.”

Stiles is sitting between Danny and I, with Derek on my other side as we all lean forward to look at the screen. I’m thinking I need glasses, because the name I’m reading _cannot_ be right.

“Registered to _that_ account name?” Derek questions.

“No, no, no, no,” Stiles rushes out.

“That- that can’t be right,” I stammer.

My eyes are glued to the screen, where it says:

**Account Registered to:**

**Beacon Hills Hospital - Melissa McCall**

* * *

_“Did you guys get the picture?”_ Scott asks from Stiles’s speaker phone. Stiles, Derek, and I are now in Stiles’s car. I am in the back, my elbows resting on the front seats, Derek is in the passenger seat, and Stiles is in the driver’s seat.

“Yeah, we did and it looks just like the drawing,” Stiles answers.

Derek suddenly grabs Stiles’s wrist and yanks it toward him. “Hey, is there something on the back of it? There’s gotta be something. An inscription, an opening, something.”

 _“No, no, the thing’s flat. And, no, it doesn’t open. There’s nothing in it, on it, around it, nothing. And where are you two? You’re supposed to be here. You’re both first line.”_ Scott’s voice gets more panicked with every word.

As if on cue, we here Coach shout, _“Where the hell are Byrne and Bilinski? Huh?”_

 _“Man, you’re not gonna play if you’re not here to start,”_ Scott says to us.

Stiles waves his hand in front of him, and we exchange a somewhat sad look in the rear view mirror. “I know,” he says. “Look if you see my dad, can you tell- tell him I’ll be there, I’ll just be a little bit late, okay?”

“Same thing if you see my brother,” I chime in, leaning forward.

Scott sighs. “Yeah, okay.”

“Thanks, dude.”

With that, Stiles hangs up and shoves his phone in his pocket.

“You’re not gonna make it,” Derek says, his gaze moving between Stiles and I.

“I know,” Stiles says.

Derek faces forward. “And you didn’t tell him about his mom either.”

“Not ‘til we find out the truth.”

I think about the jersey in my backpack, sporting the number seventeen on the back- a lucky number in Irish culture, according to my Irish grandmother. I had really been looking forward to playing my first game tonight. I knew that Griffin was probably in the stands at this moment, waiting to see me play.

I sigh, focusing on the sign for Beacon Hills Hospital. I guess normal life is just going to have to be put on hold for a while.

“By the way, one more thing,” Derek says, breaking me out of my thoughts.

Stiles barely manages to say, “Yeah,” before Derek grabs the back of Stiles’s head and slams it against the steering wheel.

Startled, I jump up in my seat, my eyes wide.

“Oh, God!” Stiles yells, clutching his nose as he leans back in his seat. “What the hell was-”

Derek points at him. “You know what that was for.” He gestures toward the building. “Go… go!”

Stiles opens the door with one hand, and holds his face with the other as I climb out of the back.

Stiles and I walk up the sidewalk to the hospital, and I hope to God that Ms. McCall isn’t a part of this.

* * *

We have been walking around the hospital for about twenty minutes and can’t find Ms. McCall- or anyone, really. Seriously, does anyone work at this hospital? Stiles decides to call Derek, who is still waiting for us in the Jeep.

“I said we can’t find her,” Stiles says into his phone, which is on speaker so that I can hear the conversation.”

 _“Look, ask for Jennifer,”_ Derek instructs. _“She’s been looking after my uncle.”_ The uncle Peter that almost died in the fire six years ago. He’s been in a coma here ever since, healing from the burns and trauma of what happened.

“We would, but there’s literally no one here,” I chime, nervously fingering my locket as we turn the corner to Peter’s room. Why do I get a bad feeling about this?

We reach Peter’s room, but the bed is empty. So is the wheelchair. The bad feeling gets bigger.

“Yeah, well, he’s not here, either,” Stiles tells Derek.

 _“What?”_ Derek exclaims.

“He’s not here,” Stiles repeats. “He’s gone, Derek.”

It’s silent for a moment before Derek is shouting, _“Both of you get out of there right now- it’s him! He’s the alpha! Get out!”_

Stiles and I exchange a wide eyed look as images from the school and the video store flash in my mind, glowing red eyes searing into my brain.

We back out of the room, but the sight of a half-burned Peter Hale causes us to stop dead in our tracks.

“You must be Stiles and Vivian,” Peter says.

Stiles immediately shoves me behind him, and we turn to start running when the nurse appears in front of us.

“What are you doing here?” She asks in her serial killer voice. “Visiting hours are over.”

Stiles keeps a tight grip on my hand as he points between Peter and the nurse. “You… and him. You’re- you’re the one who- oh my, and he’s-” Stiles cuts himself, lifting his free hand to rub the top of his head.

“Oh, my God, we’re gonna die,” I finish.

Suddenly the nurse collapses on the floor due to Derek showing up and elbowing her in the face.

“That’s not nice,” Peter mocks. “She’s my nurse.”

Without missing a beat, Derek responds, “She’s a psychotic bitch helping you kill people.” He flicks his eyes toward Stiles and I for a split second, addressing us, “Get out of the way.”

“Oh, damn,” Stiles says, grabbing me and pulling both of us to the floor and out of the way.

“You think I killed Laura on purpose?” Peter asks, walking toward Derek. “One of my own family?”

Derek answers by shifting into his wolf form, growling as his eyes glow blue. He jumps up, kicking off from the wall next to him, leaping toward Peter, who grabs Derek and pushes him against the wall.

Seeing that our space right next to the fight isn’t safe, Stiles and I scooch down the hallway as fast as we can, staying low to the ground. We quickly swerve around the unconscious nurse on the floor and crouch behind the nurse’s station.

Peter grabs Derek by the neck and begins to drag him toward us, saying, “My mind, my personality were literally burned out of me. I was being driven by pure instinct.” He drops Derek, who groans and moves to stand as Peter leans down to take the keys from the nurse’s pocket.

“You want forgiveness?” Derek demands as he punches Peter in the face. I wince and Stiles places a hand on my shoulder.

Peter grabs Derek’s jacket and headbutts him. “I want understanding,” Peter says, and kicks his nephew in the chest, sending him flying down the hallway. Stiles and I crawl closer to Derek, who is lying on the ground and spitting out blood. Peter moves slowly toward us, and Stiles grabs my arm, both of us scrambling back behind the counter, hiding us from Peter’s view. “Do you have any idea… what it was like for me during those years? Slowly healing, cell by cell. Even more slowly coming back to consciousness. Yes, becoming an alpha, taking that from Laura, pushed me over a plateau in the healing process. I can’t help that.”

From our position behind the counter, Stiles and I can’t see what is happening, but we hear grunting, and Peter continues calmly, “I tried to tell you what was happening. I tried to warn you.”

When we hear glass shattering, Stiles and I spring up and run the hell out of the hospital and toward his Jeep to tell Scott. I feel bad leaving Derek behind, but I know that he can handle himself, and that he would want Stiles and I to be safe.

As soon as we slam the doors of the Jeep shut, Stiles hits the gas and peels out of the parking lot, both of us somehow still alive.


	10. Co-Captain

Stiles and I are out of the Jeep as soon as he puts it in park and sprinting toward the school. It’s after the game, so the first place we check is the locker room.

We see Scott sitting on the bench in the back, holding the back of his neck. My brain doesn’t take in the situation before I burst out, “Dude, we have a _huge_ problem.”

We stop walking as Scott says, “Trust me - I know.”

So, apparently we’re sort of screwed.

I mean, what else is new, right?

According to Scott, Derek and Peter paid him a little visit after the game. As if Derek and Peter together wasn’t a horrible enough thought, Peter did some weird-ass acupuncture on Scott’s neck. I try not to think how cool werewolf powers are, because the whole situation is awful, but apparently an alpha’s claws can take and show memories.

Peter showed Scott his memories of the Hale house fire, the pain and the years of healing, feeling trapped. He showed Scott all the people he’s killed since healing, starting with Laura, his own niece. Since Laura was the alpha, killing her healed Peter completely.

Which, like, cool motive- still murder.

* * *

As much as I like having more than one friend- and having those friends be girls- it’s super weird. Like this morning, when I was supposed to go shopping for Winter Formal dresses with Lydia and Allison. We didn’t go straight to the mall. Instead, Allison drove us to the preserve, where Allison produced a duffel bag from her car and led us deep into the woods.

Just as confused as I am, Lydia complains, “Allison, when you said you needed to stop for an errand before we went shopping- a five mile hike in the woods was not what I was expecting.”

“Is this where you kill us and bury our chopped up pieces?” I ask, laughing uneasily, still confused as to what Allison is thinking.

Ally doesn’t answer either of our questions, and instead addresses Lydia, not even turning around. “Lydia, before I forget, I wanted to ask if you're okay with something. Jackson asked me to the Winter Formal.

Lydia, surprised, asks, “Did he?”

I tense, feeling the awkwardness already growing.

“Yeah. Just as friends. But I just wanted to make sure you're okay with it first.” Her words make it sound like she cares what Lydia thinks, but her tone doesn’t.

“Sure,” Lydia says, sounding anything but okay with it. “As long as it's just friends.”

“Well, yeah, I mean-” she chuckles a little “-it's not like I would take him to the coach's office during lacrosse practice to make out with him or anything.”

And there we go. I try to hide my smirk at my friend’s slight aggression, quietly proud of her for sticking up for herself.

Lydia falters, shock and guilt written on her face. She exchanges a look with me, wincing. “Uh, about that-”

Well, at least we’re not awkwardly dancing around this anymore.

* * *

We finally stop in front of a tree that looks as good as any other tree in the woods, and I’m not sure why we had to walk all the way out here.

“So, I would really like a confirmation that you’re _not_ going to kill us, Ally,” I joke, grateful I wore my Converse. Poor Lydia is in heels.

Allison doesn’t answer, instead kneeling down next to her duffel and pulling out what looks to be a hand guard- something you usually wear when practicing archery. She then pulls out an arrow, but without the arrowhead. Finally, she digs in her bag some more, and unearths the arrowhead, twisting it onto the actual arrow.

Arms crossed, and also wondering what the hell is going on, Lydia asks, “What does that do?”

Smirking, Allison answers, “We're about to find out.”

With that, she stands up, picking up her bow, nocking the arrow, and aiming it at a tree a few feet away. Allison releases the bow string, and the arrow flies through the air. As it makes impact with the tree, a tiny explosion occurs, sparks flying in the air, causing Lydia and I to jump back in surprise. My eyes are locked on the arrow in front of us. I don’t have much experience with archery, besides fantasy books, but I’m pretty sure arrows are not supposed to explode.

Allison lowers her bow, staring at the arrow with a look that says she was not expecting that, and let me tell you, neither was I.

“What the hell was that?” Lydia asks, her eyes still on the arrow, as well.

“I don't know,” Allison answers, shaking her head slightly.

“Well,” Lydia says, clapping her hands together slightly and stepping forward. “That was fun! Any more lethal weapons you wanna try out?”

Suddenly, we hear a twig snap off to the side, and our heads whip in that direction. No, come on. One day. I just want one day where my friends and I don’t almost fucking die.

Another twig snapping has Allison handing her bow to Lydia, who looks at her in confusion. “Hold this,” Allison says.

“What? Why?” Lydia whispers, looking like she’s holding a bomb instead of a bow that’s not even armed.

Allison starts taking off her hand guard, telling Lydia, “Because I thought I heard something.”

“So- what if you heard something?

Allison smirks a little sarcastically. “So- I want to find out what that something is. Don't worry. It's probably nothing.”

As Allison walks away, I say, “Every time someone says something is nothing, that something turns out to be something super dangerous.”

Allison doesn’t look over her shoulder as she states like it’s the simplest thing in the world, “Then shoot it.”

As she disappears from view, I turn to Lydia, fear written over both our faces. “Do you by any chance know how to use that thing?” I ask. Lydia shakes her head wordlessly, and I nod. “Yeah, that’s what I thought.”

* * *

After a few minutes of waiting anxiously for Ally to come back, I was on the verge of calling the police.

Finally, after what felt like an eternity, she appeared and explained that the noises had just been Scott looking for her. He wanted to return her necklace, and knew she sometimes jogged out on the trail. He probably didn’t have to be so creepy about it, but at least Ally has her necklace back.

After dress shopping, where none of us found dresses we liked, Stiles called and asked me to come over. We were going to study for our history test together.

Now, I walk through the front door to find Stiles in the kitchen, drinking milk straight out of the carton while Noah sits working at the dining room table.

“Hey,” Stiles greets as I shrug off my jacket and hang it on a hook by the door.

“Hey,” I respond. “Who’s ready to learn the same information we’ve been learning on the American Revolution we’ve been learning for the past eight years?”

Stiles cracks a smile at my comment, nodding as we start to head upstairs, but his attention is grabbed by his dad in the dining room. “Whatcha doing?” Stiles asks, the milk carton now at his side.

“Work,” Noah answers simply, not looking up. The dining room table is covered in papers. Noah is wearing his glasses, and has a pen in his hand and another tucked behind one ear.

“Anything we can help with?”

“We?” Noah asks, glancing up.

I step into view next to Stiles, smiling slightly and giving a little half-wave. “Hey, Uncle Noah.”

“Hey, Viv,” he greets, then turns back to Stiles. “You know, if you poured me an ounce of whiskey, that would be awfully nice.”

Stiles immediately puts the milk carton on the counter, rummaging around in the cabinets for a glass and the alcohol. He finds both and moves to sit next to his dad, me following. “Any leads?” He asks, and reaches for a paper. As he does, Noah reaches out and slaps Stiles’ hand away, causing him to retract his hand and making a noise at the unexpected pain.

“You know I can't discuss that with you,” Noah says, tossing both of us a look. Stiles grabs the bottle of whiskey and the glass in each hand. “Not too much.”

Stiles nods, pouring the alcohol into the glass, stopping after what is definitely more than what Noah wanted. “Okay,” Stiles says, handing the glass to his dad. “There you go, Dad.”

“Thanks,” Noah says, not taking his eyes off his work to look at the glass.

“Bottoms up.”

My eyebrows shoot up in surprise as Noah indeed downs the whole thing in one go. I exchange a look with Stiles. Damn. Noah is going to have such a headache tomorrow.

Noah lets out a frustrated breath as he looks back at his files. “You know, Derek Hale would be a whole hale of a lot- Hale of a lot?”

His eyebrows scrunch together as he tries to form the words correctly in his mind.

“Hell of a lot?” I say, sharing an amused look with Stiles.

Noah nods. “Hell. Yes. He would be a hell of a lot easier to catch if we could get an actual picture of him.”

“How do you not have a picture of him?” Stiles asks.

“It's the weirdest thing,” Noah says, picking up a picture. “It's like every time we tried to get a mugshot, it's like two-” Stiles grabs the photo right out of his dad’s hand, showing it to me “-laser beams were pointing at the camera.”

In Derek’s mugshot, there are two huge circles of light where his eyes should be. I’m assuming that the light from the camera reflected weirdly off his wolf eyes, making them look like two stop lights.

“Nice,” Stiles says, and I have to admit it does look pretty cool.

“Oh, my God. Oh!” Noah says suddenly, taking off his glasses and placing them on the table. He rubs his eyes. “God, that ounce hit me like a brick. And I have said way too much, and if either of you repeat any of that-”

Stiles lifts his hands like ‘who, us?’, smiling slightly. “Dad- it's us. We’re not gonna say anything. Come on.” I nod and smile in confirmation, as if we are not going to tell all of this information to Scott the first chance we get.

“See, the thing is they're all connected,” Noah continues as Stiles pulls papers out of a file. “I mean, the bus driver that got killed, he was an insurance investigator assigned to the Hale house fire.”

“‘Terminated under suspicion of fraud,’” Stiles reads off the paper, leaning over to see it.

“Exactly,” Noah confirms.

“Who else?” I ask, leaning forward in curiosity.

Sheriff: The video store clerk who got his throat slashed-” I swallow hard of the memory of the glowing red stop lights of Peter’s alpha werewolf eyes “-he's a convicted felon, history of arson.

“What about the other two guys, the guys who got killed in the woods?” Stiles asks. The two guys who were bothering Scott and Stiles the night before the last full moon, both of whom were charred that night. They were the ones Stiles and I saw on the gurney.

Noah waves a hand, answering, “Priors all over their records including-”

“Arson,” I realize, sharing a look with Stiles. I talk mostly to him now, lowering my voice to a whisper so Noah doesn’t hear. “So maybe they all had something to do with the fire. Maybe this is why Peter was killing them- as some sort of revenge.”

Stiles nods, opening his mouth to answer when Noah gathering his papers grabs our attention. “Another shot?” Stiles asks, holding up the bottle.

Noah quickly shakes his head. “No, no, no, no more.”

“Dad, come on,” Stiles tries. “You work really hard, all right? You deserve it.”

Noah finally relents, sighing, “Oh, my God, I'm gonna have such a hangover.” Probably, yep.

“You mean you're gonna have such a good night's sleep,” Stiles corrects his father. As he pours, he whispers to me, “I'm gonna have an eternity in the lowest circle of hell.”

“Maybe we can share an apartment,” I joke, feeling bad we’re doing this.

Noah drinks the alcohol a little slower this time, but it still disappears quickly. When he finishes, he rolls it back and forth on the bottom rim. He nearly rolls it off the table, but Stiles catches it before it shatters on the floor and places it back on the table. 

Noah puts his head in his hands, sighing, “Kids, there's just so many questions.”

“Like what?” Stiles asks.

Noah lifts his head up. “Like if Derek- wanted to kill everyone involved with the fire… then why start with his sister? I mean, she had nothing to do with it. Why make it look like some kind of animal did it?” I start to feel a little worse as my godfather continues to mumble, “When that cougar ended up in the parking lot- I checked with animal control. You know the instances of wild animal reports were up seventy percent over the past few months? It's like they're just going crazy, running out of the woods. I don't know.”

Stiles looks over to me as he says, “Or something's scaring them out.” Alpha Peter is such a great guy- scaring deer and other wild animals.

Noah nods, smiling softly and looking over at Stiles. “You know, I miss talking to you. To both of you. It's like we never have time-”

Stiles, too distracted by the new information to even hear Noah, grabs his phone from his pants pocket. “Dad, you know, I have to make a phone call- I'm sorry. I'll be right back.”

“I do,” Noah continues as if he doesn’t hear as Stiles stands up and I start to follow him out of the room. “I miss it. And I miss your mom.”

We freeze in our steps and turn back.

“What'd you say?” Stiles asks.

Ignoring Stiles, Noah says, “And I miss your family, Vivvy.” I swallow back the tears already gathering in my eyes, fingering my locket.

Noah reaches to the whiskey bottle. I stay in my place as Stiles steps back over to his dad, gently taking his hand and stopping him from pouring the liquid into the glass.

“Thanks,” Noah whispers.

* * *

Soon after that, we are rushing out of the house again.

Scott had called Stiles and explained that Peter, disguised as a medical rep, is currently taking his mother out on a date. So now we are in Stiles’ Jeep, driving very quickly around town to find Peter and Ms. McCall.

Finally, we see a car up ahead, recognizing Ms. McCall and Peter the Demon Werewolf from Hell through the windows.

“Wait, what’s the plan here?” I ask, realizing Stiles and I hadn’t thought of a way to get Ms. McCall away from Peter.

Stiles tilts his head. “Well, I have nothing except giving the car a fender bender,” he says.

Unfortunately, that’s all I have, too. I nod. “Do it, dude.”

Stiles puts more weight on the gas, bursting forward and hitting the back of Peter’s car with more force than he probably wanted. He immediately turns to me. “You okay?” He asks.

I nod, saying, “Yeah, I’m good.”

Ms. McCall is immediately out of the car, already shouting, “Oh, are you kidding me? Stiles! Vivian!”

Stiles and I wince, getting out of the car. “Ms. McCall?” Stiles asks, feigning surprise.

“Yes!” Ms. McCall exclaims.

Stiles laughs slightly, trying to play it off. “Wow, this is- this is just crazy. What a coincidence, huh?”

She humorlessly laughs, “Ha ha.”

I stand off to the side, arms crossed tightly in front of my chest, trying to make myself as small as possible as Stiles continues the facade that this was an accident. “I mean- I do not know what happened. You guys just came out of nowhere.”

“Came out of nowhere!” Ms. McCall repeats. “We were parked on the side of the road, Stiles.”

“How crazy is that?” Stiles asks as Peter walks up to us. Out of reflex, I tense and step back a little, placing myself behind Stiles. Noticing this, Stiles inches in front of me. “I mean, we should probably call the cops, you know, do, like, an accident report thing.”

“I don't think that's necessary,” Peter says, not actually looking at us.

“Are you sure?” I ask tentatively, as Stiles starts rubbing his neck.

“Yeah,” Stiles says. “I think I'm feeling a little whiplash.”

“Whiplash?” Ms. McCall demands. “You two hit us!”

Stiles keeps rubbing his neck, which is definitely fine. “I don't know - there's something definitely wrong with my neck.”

I eye Peter walking away toward the front of the car, muttering to himself, and I realize that Scott must be here, hidden somewhere.

Stiles and I eventually convince Ms. McCall to come with us, sending Psycho Peter on his merry way. Off to terrorize more innocent deer, I guess.

**Author's Note:**

> Please, don't be afraid to leave comments, questions, concerns, or predictions. Let me know what you liked or didn't like or want to see more of. Love you guys! Enjoy!! :)


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